


Some Kind Of Miracle

by marauderdream



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien is still a model, Alya still runs a blog, F/M, Marinette is still a designer, Starstruck AU, so it's basically still the same thing right?, what's this? a miraculous fic where ladybug and chat noir don't exist? say it ain't so!, yep just two dumb teenagers falling in love through fun shenanigans, yes the DCOM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauderdream/pseuds/marauderdream
Summary: If Marinette had her way, she would have had nothing to do with Alya's latest celebrity crush. So how did she get roped into stalking him around Los Angeles?When fashion icon Adrien Agreste quite literally crashes into Marinette's life, they have no choice but to put up with one another or risk ruining both of their careers forever.An AU based on the iconic Disney Channel Original Movie, Starstruck.





	1. Unstoppable

On the morning of July 7th, a train wreck had hit Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s bedroom, leaving behind mountains of tank tops and shorts in its path. 

Marinette herself was too busy frantically trying to tear the rest of the house apart to notice the path of fabric destruction she was leaving behind her. The storm had just barely avoided devastating the living room, and luckily, had mostly contained itself to the four pink walls upstairs. Still, the occasional spool of thread or pin had found its way down the stairs during the girl’s frantic search. 

“Maman!” she yelled in no particular direction. “Have you seen my green halter top?” 

“You already packed it,” Sabine’s voice floated up the stairs. 

Sure enough, after rifling through the contents of her third suitcase, Marinette found the shirt she’d been meticulously working on for the past week buried under dozens of other various articles. “Thank you!” she called out. “Now where’s my sunhat…” 

It felt like she had been packing for an eternity, and yet, she still didn’t have enough clothes. She didn’t even want to think about how she was going to manage to properly accessorize with what little items she was allowed to bring. 

“I’m sure you’ve packed enough,” Alya said, lounging upside down on Marinette’s bed, clearly more interested in whatever was on her phone than her friend’s current fashion crisis. “It’s only two weeks, you don’t need to bring your whole closet.” 

“But the weather is so different there. I’ll have to wear shorts practically every day.” She gasped and dramatically slapped her hands to her face. “What if it rains? I didn’t pack my umbrella!” 

Where even was her umbrella? Come to think of it, did she even own one? 

Alya flipped herself right side up and crossed the room, placing two calming hands on her friend’s shoulders. “We’ll buy one at the airport if we need it,” she laughed. “Honestly, Marinette, everything’s going to be fine!” 

Marinette took four deep breaths, trying her best to come to her senses. Her eyes widened once again as another piece fell into place in her mind. “My sketchbook! I can’t believe I almost forgot it!” 

“Well, okay, we probably can’t buy that at the airport,” Alya admitted. 

Luckily, she didn’t need a search team to find the book. It sat just where she had left it last, on the edge of her desk next to the computer mouse.

The book looked much less important than it actually was – a simple blue-covered notebook with mostly blank pages. Marinette had taken her time writing ‘Los Angeles, California’ in large, curly script at the top of the first page. This would be the start of a new era of Dupain-Cheng designs. 

“I don’t even know where I’d get one there,” said Marinette. “The idea of learning to use American money is scary enough, but the stores there look absolutely massive, I wouldn’t know where to start!” 

Alya resumed her position on Marinette’s bed, scrolling on her phone as Marinette tucked her sketchbook and a few last minute smaller items into her carry-on bag. “I still can’t believe you’re going to Los Angeles and you’re going to be drawing the whole time,” Alya said. 

Drawing? No, Marinette had every intent on designing a masterpiece while on this trip, and no peer pressure from Alya was going to stop her.

“Well you’re just going to be stalking celebrities the whole time. There is more to life than pretty boys, Alya,” Marinette teased. She ducked to dodge the pillow that Alya flung at her head. “What are you so concentrated on anyway?” 

“I’m looking for some very important information,” Alya said vaguely. 

“Right…” said Marinette. “Besides, Hollywood fashion is so different from what we see here. I can’t risk seeing something that inspires me and not being able to sketch it out. I have a feeling this-“ she tapped on the pocket where her book was for extra emphasis, “-is going to be one of my greatest fashion breakthroughs yet!” 

“Mm-hmm” Alya muttered. “So long as you don’t drop it in the ocean.” 

The ocean. Hundreds and hundreds of miles of water between here and their final destination. Marinette gulped, trying not to think about it too hard. The flight would be over before she knew it. She could even get a head start on her designs in the airport. After all, people from all over the place would be making their way through the Charles de Gaulle. There would be plenty of inspiration to draw from as soon as they stepped out of the car. Marinette smiled at the thought, her mind already running wild with new ideas. 

“Girls!” Marlena Césaire, Alya’s mom, called up the stairs. “Are you ready to go?” 

Alya and Marinette exchanged equally stupidly big grins. “Coming!” they shouted in unison, playfully shoving each other down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Sabine Cheng and Marlena Césaire had used their combined culinary skills to spend the entire morning making the girls snacks for their trip. The counters were covered in various meats, cheeses, and fruits all packed in boxes and bags for the ride. Not to mention the baked goods that were practically overflowing in their containers.

“This all looks wonderful,” Alya politely hugged her mom before voraciously digging into the closest bag of snacks with her free hand, her other still gripping her phone for dear life. “Those Hollywood socialite-types are going to love this stuff!” 

Sabine nodded. “This is such a wonderful opportunity, Marlena! I still can’t believe someone so far away requested your food for their party.”

“And offered a huge amount of money and a free trip for it,” Alya mumbled through her cookie, raising an eyebrow at Marinette who stifled her giggles behind her hand. 

“This is all wonderful, Mme. Césaire!” Marinette said politely. “And thank you again for bringing me along, I honestly don’t know how to repay you.” 

“Just be sure to let your mom know all about the culinary scene in America. You’re her valued reporter for this trip, Marinette!” Marlena said. Sabine winked at Marinette behind Mrs. Césaire’s back. 

Marinette smiled. “Alya’s your star reporter but I’ll try my best!” 

Marinette knew that paying attention to the ins and outs of the food business didn’t really need to be a priority. Her parents had sat her down a few days ago and told her to just enjoy her time on the trip. Sabine and Tom liked their small hometown bakery the way it was, and they weren’t really looking to branch out the way Alya’s mother was. Regardless, it was still a good excuse to use as to why the Dupain-Chengs were allowing their teenage daughter to leave the country for two weeks, and way Marlena was so enthusiastic to have Marinette come along. 

Alya gasped sharply at her phone. “Look!” she cried. 

Marinette, Sabine, and Marlena all snapped their eyes to Alya, startled.

“Isn’t he gorgeous,” she sighed, pushing her phone too close to Marinette’s face for comfort. Marinette had to cross her eyes to make out the image of the boy on the screen, who had a look on his face and a gleam in his eye like he was admiring something marvelous. Though, Marinette thought, judging by the way the photo was obviously taken in a studio, he was most likely just blinding himself with the harsh lights. 

Her eyes were immediately drawn to his outfit, which consisted of a blue flannel top – what was it with Americans and flannel? – and all too tight jeans that made a blush rise to Marinette’s cheeks with just a glance. 

She pushed the phone away and blinked a few times, readjusting her vision. “Is he that actor you’re so obsessed with?” 

The girls’ mothers laughed, tuning their attention back to their own conversation and packing the last of their food. 

“Why yes,” Alya announced dramatically. “This is the actor, model, singer, beautiful human being extraordinaire Adrien Agreste, and this new photo shoot just got released! We are among the first in the world to be blessed with these images. Isn’t he amazing?” 

“Wonderful,” Marinette deadpanned. 

Alya lowered her voice. “We have to see him. We’ll be in his hometown, it’s practically fate! And don’t tell me you’re going to be busy, we’ll have so much time in-between mom’s events that we have to go out and explore! I know all of his favorite spots, we’re bound to run into him at one of them!” 

Marinette smiled to herself, allowing her friend to get lost in her silly daydreams. Of course Marinette herself was known to be a bit obsessive over some things (i.e. the great packing debacle of ten minutes ago), but Alya had her days too. Especially when it came to her little celebrity crush. There was no denying the boy was attractive, but what made him different from any other celebrity on television nowadays? 

“He’s known to hang out in a club that’s not too far away from some of my mom’s catering jobs she’s doing this week,” Alya continued to ramble. “We could totally run into on the dance floor! And then we’ll lock eyes across the room and he’ll ask me to join him for a slow song. Then he’ll ask my name and recognize me from my blog and fall head over heels for my amazing journalism skills and-“ 

“Alya!” Marinette had to resist laughing. “You don’t even know this boy, why do you think he’s going to be so wonderful?”

“I do know Adrien. He’s the same age as us, he’s a Scorpio, he loves chocolate chip cookies, and he reads my blog every day. He has to,” she said defensively. “It has thousands of hits, one of them has to be him.” 

Marinette arched an eyebrow at her friend. “Wow, a sixteen year old Scorpio who likes food and might be able to read. Amazing.” 

A mischievous look crossed Alya’s face. “You might be interested to know something else. His dad’s a fashion designer,” she sing-songed.

Marinette froze. The cogs in her head started turning ever so slowly. Suddenly this whole trip was looking to become a lot more interesting. “Let’s get there first, then we’ll figure out how to stalk this Adrien boy, alright?” 

Alya gave Marinette a two-fingered salute. “Ay, captain!” Success! 

“Are you girls all set?” Sabine asked, to which both Marinette and Alya nodded. 

It was time.

Marinette nearly bounded over the kitchen counter give her mother a long hug goodbye before trudging up to her room and returning with her three bags, making sure to grab extra snacks before descending the next flight of stairs. She gave her father a long hug and kiss on the cheek as well after he finished loading the Césaire’s car with all of the girls’ belongings. 

She slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder, Alya plugged in her phone’s car charger, and just like that, they were off to the airport. 

Alya stayed attached to her phone staring at pictures of the model practically the entire way there, silently swooning. There had nearly been a fight at the security gate when she was required to put the phone away before stepping through the metal detectors. 

Even after boarding the plane, Alya’s eyes stayed glued to the screen until the pilot announced that all electronics had to be turned off. She made a show of dramatically pouting before powering her cellphone down and turning over to take a nap. “Makes the time go faster,” she said. 

Honestly, Marinette just could not understand the obsession. Maybe he was some swoon-worthy heartthrob to others, but Marinette had barely even heard of him aside from Alya’s pining. He was huge in America, but in Paris, his name was practically unknown.

His did have a decent body type, though. And pretty aesthetically pleasing features – the green eyes, blonde hair combo was rare, and Marinette couldn’t help but wonder how much fun it would be to dress someone like that in pops of color that would draw attention from a crowd. Plus, starting some designs now would be a welcome distraction from her flight nerves.

Huh. Look at that. They hadn’t even left France yet, and already, Marinette had found a new source of inspiration. 

As they taxied down the runway, Marinette removed her sketchbook from her bag and flipped open to the first page. Just underneath the title she’d written earlier, she hastily scribbled two words: Adrien Agreste. 

In just a little over twelve hours, she and Alya would be in Los Angeles, California for the trip of a lifetime. 

This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Disney Channel trash and I'm supposed to be working on actual college work and NaNoWriMo right now so naturally I'm putting this up instead.
> 
> My first fic since 2015. Feels good to be back.


	2. Unbeliebable

“Adrien, why were you sitting on a roof?” 

Adrien Agreste had been deep into his discussion with Nino about the latest Ultimate Mecha Strike game – so deep in fact that the sun had set behind them without either of them noticing - before they had been so rudely interrupted by Nathalie waving a paparazzi photo in his face. 

The snapshot in question had been taken a few days prior. Adrien, clad in pajama pants and a graphic tee shirt, sat perched precariously on the very top of his house. His eyes were closed and he faced the breeze, looking almost angelic with his hair and arms tossed back gleefully. It was almost as if the night sky were his natural habitat. 

Honestly, it was a good picture. Better than any of the snapshots that had been released earlier that morning in that teen magazine spread. The vain part of him wanted to get it blown up to replace that billboard that had gone up recently. He didn’t know why Nathalie sounded like she was about to faint. 

“It felt nice outside,” was his offhand response. He added a shrug and grinned at her for good measure. 

Nino Lahiffe sat a just inches away lounging in the biggest chair in the Agreste house’s living room observing the whole conversation with a curious expression. His feet say atop the coffee table and a glass of some kind of expensive-looking sparkling juice in a glass next to him. 

He tended to raid the kitchen and take whatever he liked anytime he wanted to. Just one of the perks of being Adrien’s best friend. 

He’d been the casual witness to many an Adrien scolding, honestly it amazed him how open Mr. Agreste’s assistants were about discussing private matters around him. He was in their house all the time; perhaps they’d stopped noticing that he didn’t quite belong. 

Disputes like this were always entertaining to watch because he could tell that most of the time Adrien didn’t care about getting punished and instead just feigned guilt to make other people feel like they’d accomplished something. There was no talking that boy out of his own decisions and actions, especially not when he was in a particularly rebellious mood like he had been this past week.

“Honestly, Nathalie, he does it all the time, I don’t know how- hmmph!” Nino’s statement was cut short by a quick elbow to the ribs from Adrien.

Okay, so it was true that he snuck out and did pretty reckless things on a normal basis. But Nathalie didn’t need to know that. This just so happened to be the first time he’d gotten caught. He could have sworn he triple checked the house’s surroundings before going out, but the paparazzi had been getting more and more creative with their hiding spots lately. 

“Nice outside. Nice enough that you couldn’t walk out the front door and decided to take the shortcut out the window?” Nathalie’s voice was eerily calm. You could always tell when she was angry. The quieter she was, the more afraid you should be.

He didn’t always have to pretend to be guilty about disappointing Nathalie. Of all of his father’s assistants, she was the nicest, but she also regarded Adrien the highest and held the strictest expectations of him. Not to mention the steely cold look in her eyes that sent shivers down anyone’s spine if she looked at them the wrong way.

Adrien averted his eyes, but he still felt her gaze boring into him. “I’m sorry, Nathalie. It won’t happen again.”

“What part of it?” she asked. “The part where you were caught in public in your pajamas, the part where you were out past curfew without permission, or the part where someone managed to get a photo of you putting your safety as risk. And what would have happened if you fell? You cannot get yourself injured, we don’t have time for a hospital visit.”

Nino leaned back further in his seat, taking a long swig of his drink, looking highly entertained. 

“Understood,” Adrien apologized. “None of it will happen again. Cross my heart,” he gestured over the left side of his torso for extra measure. 

There was a long, awkward pause. Nathalie stared down at the photo in her hands again, readjusting her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose, and sighing. Adrien could have sworn he had almost heard her mutter something that sounded very colorful under her breath. 

“I just got off a conference call with your father,” she said. “After we finished discussing this, he mentioned that he may have another modeling contract for you when he gets back. You two can talk it over during your meeting on Friday. He says it’s very important.” 

“Career wise or money wise?” Nino quipped.

Nathalie glared daggers at him. “Both, Mr. Lahiffe. You should both know that Gabriel has been trying to collaborate with this company for years, long before either of you were even born. This is an incredible opportunity for the entire Agreste family, one that could get them back in the international spotlight. But if Adrien does something to tarnish his reputation before the paperwork is signed, the deal is off and we are all done for. So if I were you I’d try to keep things like this-“ she waved the photo around one last time for emphasis, “-out of the hands of people who will run to the tabloids with it.” 

With that, she turned to leave the boys to their own devices.

“Wait,” Adrien called after her. He hesitated before realizing that he might as well say what he wanted; she was already mad enough as it was, she probably couldn’t get much angrier. “One more question. How much money are we talking exactly?” 

She glanced over her shoulder and made a point to stare Adrien down, as if he were the only one in the room. “Hundreds of thousands,” was her answer. “Per photograph. We don’t want to give that up, do we?” 

“No, ma’am,” he shook his head. “I’ll talk more with my dad about it. I won’t let you guys down.” 

As Nathalie left, the tension in the room seemed to instantly dissipate. 

Money had never been an issue in the Agreste household – that much was obvious. This time, however, the dollar signs dancing in his head didn’t just hint at bigger rooms or fancy furniture or fast cars. They pointed big green arrows at another idea that occupied Adrien’s mind. 

“Dude,” Nino said, pulling Adrien from his thoughts. He sat rubbing at his sore ribcage, right where Adrien had hit him. “That seriously hurt! Have you been working out or something?” 

“Honestly, Nathalie, he does it all the time,” Adrien said in an awful imitation of Nino’s voice. “You can’t just say things like that! Do you want my dad to kill me?” 

“You know,” Nino said, “for an actor, you’re god awful at doing impressions.” 

“I’m not an actor, Nino.” 

Okay, technically he was. He even had his own IMDB page, which was due to no choice of his own. A couple years back, his father had suggested he branch off from the modeling and try his hand at something new. A skincare commercial here and there somehow led to a minor role in last summer’s biggest blockbuster, but that wasn’t what Adrien wanted to be known for.

He didn’t want to be known for that unfortunate stint in a singing career either. If half of his fans knew how much auto-tune went into the making of that EP he released last year, they’d be appalled. Luckily, he’d avoided getting roped into doing any kind of live performance, and he’d like to keep it that way. 

“It doesn’t matter. Did you hear Nathalie? I could make millions from this deal. That’s…unbelievable,” Adrien sighed.

Nino leaned his head back and closed his eyes wistfully. “Imagine how many upgrades you could do to your tech with that kind of money. But wait, doesn’t your family already have millions?”

“My dad has millions,” Adrien corrected. “But with this shoot, even if he split up the money a hundred different ways, I’d still end up with so much. Don’t you get it?” he lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “I could get out of here.” 

Between the two of them, it had been no secret that Adrien felt a prisoner in his own home. It was part of the reasons he did dumb things like the stunt on the roof the other day. While he was here, Nathalie or any of his dad’s other dozens of assistants were constantly breathing down his neck. Security watched his every step whenever he left his bedroom. He had only just managed to bribe one of the guards to disable the cameras in his lounge room, which allowed him to have the current conversation he was holding with Nino with at least some sense of privacy.

Outside of the house was no better. Just like the person who had caught that picture of him on the roof, there were unsolicited photos of him taken every single day from the second he left the front door. He didn’t have a smidgen of privacy until he managed to get himself behind locked doors and away from paparazzi. 

None of this had ever meant to happen. “It’s just a temporary move,” Gabriel Agreste had said years ago. “You’ll be under contract for two months, and then we’ll come back home.” It was Gabriel’s desperate attempt at regaining his reputation after he’d been shunned and ridiculed on one too many Paris runways. 

Two months turned into the entire summer, which extended to fall and winter until, before he knew it, Adrien had permanently relocated to Los Angeles with home being out of sight and out of mind as far as anyone else was concerned. 

Learning English had been hard. Getting used to the American attitudes surrounding him was even harder. He still missed waking up and seeing the Eiffel Tower from his window. 

Two years into LA life, a blessing and a curse came in the form of Chloe Bourgeois. As Adrien’s oldest friend and the daughter of the a Mayor who had no issue funding his daughter’s escapades, she felt entitled to fly back and forth to visit practically as often as she liked. Thankfully it mostly only happened when she was on break from school. If Adrien had to deal with her during every time of year, it might drive him insane. 

Having a friend from back home would have been nice, had she not become so enamored with the limelight. It was almost like she was a paparazzi magnet, happily posing for the camera wherever she went. She was meant to be a distraction from the glitz and glamour, and now she was one of Adrien’s main sources of it. 

He was a prisoner, not just in this house, but also throughout this entire city. As big as Los Angeles was, it still managed to make Adrien feel trapped. 

At least he had Nino here with him. 

“So that’s your plan, huh?” Nino asked. He was careful to sound completely neutral, which only made talking about this idea harder. “Lie low, get your contract, and hop on the next bus or plane or train out of here?” 

Even more guilt trickled in. Not only was Adrien complaining about his life – a life that any other person could barely dream of – but he almost completely disregarded that Nino was a package deal with it. Goodbye California meant goodbye Nino. 

He was torn. 

And besides, modeling was actually fun sometimes. 

So for the most part, he just dealt with his worries. He shooed away the little voice in the back of his head telling him to run. But that voice had been talking awfully loudly lately. 

“Not so fast,” Adrien said. “It’s a major decision to make, it’ll take time. Don’t worry, I’m not going to abandon you without warning.” 

“Good,” Nino laughed. “Because if Chloe drops in tomorrow and finds that you’re not here, the first person she’ll come after if me, and I do not want to be on a Bourgeois hit list.” 

Tomorrow? 

Oh. Oh no.

The realization must have been blatantly obvious on Adrien’s face, because Nino’s entire expression fell. “Adrien. Please don’t tell me you forgot. She’s probably already on her plane.” 

“She didn’t call! At least I don’t think she did!” Adrien bolted out of his chair and ran up the stairs, Nino following close at his heels. 

Most of the time Adrien kept his phone locked in his room, mainly because he didn’t want to have to deal with the constant calls from agents or the incessant social media notifications about him. If someone important needed to contact him, they had other ways. 

Unless that person was Chloe Bourgeois, which in that case, Adrien needed his phone right now. 

He was careful not to trip as he bounded his way up the four – really, Gabriel? Did this house really need to be this tall? – flights of stairs and around the corner into his bachelor-pad-esque bedroom. 

Honestly, if he wanted to, he never had to leave the four walls of this room. He had an en-suite bathroom and private kitchenette fully stocked with more food than he could possibly finish alone. Not to mention all of the gadgets and entertainment. A nuclear apocalypse could happen right outside the doors and Adrien could be so engrossed in his own little world here that he’d be none the wiser. That is, unless he decided to step out onto his private balcony, of course. 

It was huge and lonely, which is why he spent as little time in here as possible. 

He ran over to the small safe under the nightstand and quickly unlocked it. His phone screen was black, which gave him a false sense of hope. At the press of the large center button, the screen awoke displaying three missed calls and eight text messages, all from a very pissed off Chloe. 

Adrien cringed as he scrolled down, watching the amount of caps lock increase with every message. The last text had been sent five hours ago, and surprisingly, had zero punctuation whatsoever. 

‘Taking off now’ was all it said. 

Adrien could almost feel the metaphorical cartoon drop of sweat drip down his forehead. No punctuation was a very, very bad thing with Chloe. 

“She’s mad,” he said, not looking up at Nino. “And she’ll be here in,” he double checked the time, “-seven hours.” 

Nino nervously wrung his hat – which he had taken off his head – in his hands. “Remind me to be as far away from this house as possible by morning, then.” 

Adrien started pacing in circles. Part of him wanted to raid his kitchenette and start stress eating. “Nino, you have to help me. You heard what Nathalie said, I need to stay out of the press.” 

Nino nodded grimly. “And Chloe Bourgeois is a synonym for bad publicity. I know,” he signed dramatically and placed a very serious hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I guess I’ll keep an eye out for trouble while she’s here. I’m willing to sacrifice my sanity to keep your reputation in check. Because I am such a good friend.” 

Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. “What would I do without you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm busy so I won't update that much" I say as I upload two chapters in less than 24 hours. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Incredible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out how to split this up, so here is nearly 6k of (gasp) actual plot

Marinette’s right hand was sore. Grey graphite smudged the entire length from her pinky to her wrist, but the result was all worth it. Fifteen pages of new menswear ideas were detailed on the pages in front of her. 

She had spent majority of the flight – aside from meal and bathroom breaks – furiously sketching in her notebook. She’d been so concentrated on the steady flow of ideas streaming from her brain onto the paper in front of her that she almost didn’t hear the pilot’s landing announcement. 

Alya roused next to her, having entered her third nap of the trip about an hour prior. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and stared out the window, grinning maniacally.  


“We’re here!” she mouthed, making no effort to hide the pure joy on her face.

Marinette took a quick peek past her friend to look out the window, immediately regretting the sinking feeling in her stomach that resulted. They were still so high up in the air that even looking out for a fraction of a second gave her intense vertigo. She was glad she hadn’t been assigned the window seat. 

All around the aircraft, people were bouncing their legs, fidgeting with magazines, or trying to stealthily reach for their bags early. Normally Marinette would have been just as irritable as everyone else, but she had had a welcome distraction for the past twelve hours. 

“Is that who I think it is?” Alya half-whispered, taking a glance at Marinette’s drawings before she could stow her book away. 

Marinette could feel the blush rising to her cheeks as she realized – it was exactly who Alya thought it was. Every single clothing sketch had been accompanied with a mop of blonde hair and huge, curious eyes wearing it. She’d drawn Adrien Agreste’s face in almost as much detail as the outfits, over and over again. 

“He’s a model,” Marinette squeaked. “I needed something to work off of. And since you wouldn’t stop talking about him all morning-“ 

“Someone’s in denial,” Alya smirked. “He’s gorgeous and you know it. You’ll come to your senses eventually.”

The pilot came over the intercom once more, sounding sterner than the last time as he reminded passengers to store all personal items away for landing. Marinette sheepishly tucked her sketchbook away as other passengers reluctantly stored their belongings as well.

Two rows up, a flight attendant was having an altercation with a passenger. She and the teenage girl bickered back and forth at each other.

“Miss, all phones need to be powered down completely for our landing,” she gently tried to explain, but the girl was having none of it. 

“I need to make sure my driver is going to be there when we land,” the teen insisted. “I am not going to be late getting to my destination.”

“The plan can’t land at all if our safety is compromised from your cell phone signal,” the flight attendant said with finality before walking to the back of the plane and taking her seat. 

The blonde girl across the aisle looked oddly familiar, and not just because she was attached to her phone the same way Alya had been all day. Maybe Marinette had seen her around school somewhere? Regardless, she finally decided her conversation was less important than the lives of the hundred or so fellow passengers surrounding her, so she powered her phone down and tossed it aside, grumbling under her breath the entire time. 

“I don’t blame her,” Alya whispered. “My fingers have been itching to check my blog, it’s been driving me crazy.” 

The remaining twenty minutes of the flight passed without incident aside from slight turbulence. Disembarking the aircraft and heading towards the exit were equally as mundane. 

Marlena Césaire walked ahead of the girls as they left the building, her carry-on bag trailing behind her. She stood at the curb and waved frantically in an attempt to hail a cab. Marinette and Alya, on the other hand, were too busy gaping at the scenery to do anything productive.

There were real live palm trees. Actually growing from the ground, not in a pot. And they were massive; at least over a dozen meters tall. Taxis and personal cars alike swerved wildly in and out of traffic, picking up travelers and making their way down the long stretch of motorway ahead. In the distance, the giant LAX sign was bright white in the sunlight. More incoming and outgoing flights passes precariously close over their heads. And the people: men and women in business suits, families with children wearing mouse ears, and travelers of all ages looking much less lost than they did. 

Marinette didn’t see the blonde girl from the plane, again. She guessed her driver made it on time after all. 

And judging by the man who had just walked up behind them with a sign, asking if they were the Césaire party, apparently their driver had made it too. 

“Oh,” Marlena was taken aback. “We didn’t order a car.” 

“You are here for Ms. Sancouer’s events this week, correct?” The man asked. 

Marlena nodded slowly, looking absolutely dumbfounded. 

“As part of her payment, she has gifted you service to your hotel,” the man smiled and gestured to his left. A sleek black car was pulled off to the side of the road with its doors wide open, waiting for them. 

This Sancouer woman had apparently thought of everything, even so far as to hire a driver who spoke French. Props to her, Marinette thought. 

Alya shrugged – as if to say ‘this may as well be happening’ – and hopped into the backseat of the car, with her mother and Marinette following close behind. The man walked the perimeter of the car, closing each door as he went, before getting behind the wheel and entering the traffic of the city.

And then they were off. And this city was massive.

There were too many things to see all at once. Marinette had complete sensory overload, trying to take in the sights and sounds and smells of Los Angeles.

The beaches had been one of the things she was looking forward to most. Only she hadn’t expected to see so many sandy shores right off of nearly every street they sped down. Seeing the ocean from the ground was even more surreal than flying above it, not to mention much less terrifying. The blue water sparkled in the morning sun and stretched out as far as the girls could see from their tinted car windows and beyond. 

Before they knew it, they were pulling up to the front doors of their hotel. Alya bolted out of the backseat and through the hotel’s massive glass doors, her phone camera snapping furiously. 

Marlena glanced back at Marinette from the front seat. “Go,” she said. “Explore, have fun. You have your key, right?” 

Mme. Césaire’s clients had conveniently already checked them in as well, so their driver had their keys ready as soon as they arrived. Marinette nodded and patted the front pocket of her bag where she’d tucked the key earlier before running in after her friend. 

She stepped inside and was immediately taken aback. The hotel was beautiful – far more extravagant that she had expected it to be. The soaring ceilings were covered in incredibly detailed murals. The furniture consisted entirely of sturdy dark wood and marble pieces accented with what was most likely real gold. The crystalline chandelier hanging in the center of the room probably cost more than Marinette’s entire house. 

Whoever had hired Mme. Césaire and paid for this trip must have been swimming in extra cash. 

By the time she caught up to Alya, the other girl had worked her way through the hotel lobby and into the gift shop, where she held half a dozen different very expensive looking candy bars.

“Do you know what any of these things are?” Alya seemed absolutely giddy. “I’ve never heard of any of these brands before!” 

The store clerk stared at Alya, looking mildly terrified. Now that Marinette thought about it, she realized that most of the people here probably couldn’t understand a word Alya was saying. 

Marinette could only imagine what everyone in the lobby was thinking about this teenage girl staring at the walls, taking photos of the lamps, and screaming French exclamations at the top of her lungs. 

The endless foreign babble didn’t end for hours, even after they’d settled into their suite. 

Their room was just as unnecessarily lavish as the rest of the hotel. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a full kitchen and dining area were just the beginning. The television had over three hundred channels and a full gaming system set up. Mme. Césaire’s room had a bottle of expensive-looking wine and a welcome note sitting on the side table. Marinette and Alya were each given their own fruit baskets. 

The bags they’d checked on the flight, which had been picked up from the airport for them, sat waiting for them inside as well. They’d even paid attention to the luggage tags, Marinette noted while tilting her head to get a better look at the inside, as all of her belongings were seated at the foot of the right bed, and Alya’s at the left. 

The three women had stood gaping in the doorway for what felt like ages. 

Marlena cleared her throat. “The woman that hired me is vey generous,” she said weakly. 

“No kidding,” Alya was the first to enter the room, where she and her phone camera went to work, documenting every last inch of luxury. 

Marinette stepped inside next, feeling completely overwhelmed. Her fingers itched to take out her sketchbook again. There was so much to take in. The surrounding colors and shapes and patterns jumped around in her head, begging to be eternalized in a sketch.

Their driver stood politely outside of the door, allowing the girls enough time to get used to their new environment before interrupting once more. 

“Mme. Césaire,” he began, “when you are ready, I will escort you to your venue to begin preparing for tonight, if you would like.” 

Marinette could practically see the word ‘trouble’ flashing behind Alya’s eyes. No doubt, the other girl was already scheming about what she’d do once she was out of her mother’s watchful eye. 

If Marlena suspected anything, it didn’t show on her face. There was no hesitation as she began collecting her things and preparing to leave. Alya was practically shaking in excitement. 

Marinette hoped her disapproving look was enough to silently communicate to Alya that she very much did not approve of her scheming. She had been awake for far too long today. She wanted to unpack, and take a nap, and watch American dramas on television that she didn’t understand. She wanted to relax.

Alya Césaire and “relax” didn’t even belong in the same sentence, as far as she was concerned. Especially not here in the Golden State. Alya had a mission and she was determined to set it in motion. 

Once Alya’s mom and the driver had left for the night, Marinette asked, “You’re going to look for Adrien, aren’t you?” Though she already knew the answer.

“Of course,” Alya winked at her. “And you’re coming with me.”  


* * *

Chloe Bourgeois arrived at the Agreste house precisely when she said she would.

Her chauffer had given Adrien an apologetic look as he dropped Chloe’s bags off in the upstairs guest room. He only dealt with the girl once or twice a year, but he knew what a terror she could be. Lucky for him, he only had to drive her around. Adrien had to be the one to keep her entertained.

And out of the press, he reminded himself. 

It was going to be a very difficult task, seeing as she nearly tackled him to the ground in greeting on his front lawn, in full view of the entire block. 

“Finally!” she cried, planting a kiss on each of his cheeks. “I felt like I was going to drive myself crazy waiting to see you!”

Adrien firmly placed his hands on her shoulders and held her just out of reach. “Listen,” he started, “I’m happy to see you too, but you can’t do that. Not out here.” 

She frowned. “Why not?”

Adrien turned back and forth, checking his surroundings. Thankfully, he didn’t see a flash go off or any bushes rustling in the distance. 

“I told you, most people here aren’t that…affectionate with their friends. Someone might see you do that and get the wrong idea. Come on.” He kept one hand on her shoulder, loosening his grip so that he felt friendlier and less forceful. They walked together through the house to the main lounge room. 

“What kind of wrong idea?” Chloe asked, plopping down in the seat behind her.

Adrien had to hold back a groan. “People might think we’re dating.” 

“Is that so bad?” At Adrien’s exasperated look, she rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding. I’ll stop, I’m sorry. I’m just really happy to see you.” 

“I know,” Adrien said. He took the time to hug her properly before standing back up and offering to get her something to drink. 

By the time he’d returned from the kitchen with two glasses of water, Chloe was practically bouncing out of her seat from excitement. 

“So what’s our itinerary for the week?” Chloe asked. “Last time we talked you had said something about a bonfire on the beach. Or a music festival. Or a music festival on the beach with a bonfire.” 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, um…” 

“Oh, I hear that there’s still some fireworks left over from this place’s Independence Day and they’re going to set them off tomorrow night, can we go see them?”

“Nathalie’s hosting a cocktail party here tonight,” Adrien said quickly. “How about we go to that first, then decide what to do later?” 

Chloe shot him a disappointing look. Adrien had a notoriously bad poker face. 

“You can get all dressed up,” he continued. “And she’s getting some really fancy food catered. There’ll be lots of big-shot Hollywood types here to talk about business and-“

“You should have started with that,” Chloe interrupted. “You know I’m a sucker for a stuffy middle-aged guy talking business. Look, I’m already swooning.” 

Adrien knew he was being a bad friend. First, he’d forgotten all about her arrival, then he was already making excuses for the next few days about why she couldn’t enjoy her time here with him. The guilt was almost enough to make him forget all about his promise and let Chloe have her fun.

Almost. 

He took her hands in hers and got very serious. “Listen, Nathalie wants me to stay out of trouble. I’ve got a huge opportunity coming up that rides on me being on my best behavior. Just promise me one hour? Two, tops. Just enough for me to make a good impression with everyone coming. And after that, I promise we can do something you want.” 

She didn’t quite look convinced. She pulled her hands away and crossed them over her chest, sticking her nose in the air stubbornly. Adrien decided to try one last thing.

“Nino will be here tonight too. You wouldn’t miss an opportunity to insult his fashion sense, would you?” 

Despite trying her best to stay stoic, Chloe smiled. “I do enjoy seeing that look on his face when I tell him his hats out of date. Fine. Two hours of your posh little party. Only because I’m such a nice person.”

And this was why Chloe Bourgeois was still his friend. For one, she would always come around and make sacrifices for him when he needed her to. And two, she couldn’t resist a chance to schmooze with socialites for a night.

Perhaps this little visit of hers wouldn’t be so bad.  


* * *

“Even the wall outlets are weird here!” Alya shouted from inside the bathroom, where she had been straightening her hair for the past hour.

Marinette could still hear her camera’s flash snapping every couple of minutes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re taking selfies with the electrical wiring,” she called back. 

Marinette had just finished emptying her last suitcase. All of her clothes were stored away in the drawers and closets that they’d live in for the next two weeks. Only the essentials – her cellphone, her keys, and of course, her sketchbook – were packed away in a small backpack that she could also squeeze a few snacks from the fruit basket into if she decided to venture off and needed fuel. 

She sat back on the plush bed, feeling extremely satisfied with herself. The sun had set a little over an hour ago and she felt absolutely exhausted. She could fall asleep sitting up if she tried.

As soon as she saw Alya emerge from the bathroom dressed to the nines, however, she had a good feeling that she wouldn’t be sleeping much at all.

“Why are you wearing that?” Marinette asked, dreading the answer.

“I told you, we’re going out!” Alya said, as if it were obvious. “The sooner we start looking, the more ground we’ll cover. Come on, get dressed!” 

“Your mom said not to get in trouble,” said Marinette. That outfit definitely looked like trouble.

Not only was Marlena Césaire gone for the night, but her schedule was practically booked up this entire trip, and that left the girls far too much unsupervised time to get into mischief. She had made them promise to follow a few rules on their vacation: stick together, spend money carefully, and don’t do anything that will land you in a cell. Oh, and don’t forget to have fun!

Clearly Alya was disregarding the three former statements for the latter. 

“We won’t,” said Alya. “Everything I plan on doing tonight is completely legal in this country. Now come on!” 

Alya practically dragged Marinette from under the covers and into the bathroom, painting her face in a flurry of cosmetics and colors without so much as asking whether or not Marinette even wanted to go anywhere. She guessed this was Alya’s way of following rule number one: they couldn’t stick together if she didn’t pull Marinette along for her joyrides around LA. 

At least Marinette had a say in what she got to wear; she chose a sensible pair of white jeans and flats, so she wouldn’t end up like Alya who would most likely be shoe-less and complaining about how much her heels hurt by the end of the night. 

Marinette barely had time to grab her backpack before Alya dragged her from the room, shouting giddily the entire time about what Adrien’s eyes would look like in person.

It took them fifteen minutes to figure out how to hail a cab. Another twelve minutes, and they had pulled up to a building with far too many neon lights and what looked like nearly a hundred rowdy teenagers standing outside of it’s doors.

Marinette’s face paled. “Alya, where are we?”

“Calm down,” Alya said. “There’s a concert going on inside in an hour.” She opened her phone and started reading from her extensive list of notes. This place looked like the first on an incredibly long list of possible locations she was looking to scout. “Adrien’s been seen here attending shows seven times in the past year, plus, he’s been spotted hanging out with the lead singer of one of the bands that’s on the schedule tonight.”

After scanning just a dozen faces in the crowd, Marinette already felt pretty hopeless. “And you’re sure you’re going to find him here?” 

“He’ll be wherever the most camera flashes are going off, most likely,” Alya said. After seeing Marinette’s doubtful face, she added, “And think of it this way: if we don’t find him, we can still enjoy the concert.”

Alya pulled two bluish slips of paper from her bag and handed one to Marinette. Judging by the dates on the tickets, Alya had purchased these far in advance. She really had every step of this trip planned out. 

When they exited the cab, Marinette took Alya’s hand as a security precaution. Alya ducked and weaved through the crowd like a pro, leaving Marinette to wonder where she’d learned to be so confident. They pushed their way to the front of the red-roped area, gotten their hands stamped by the doorman, and rushed inside with the rest of the concertgoers. 

The first act of the night had just begun their sound check. Endless snacks and drinks flowed at a bar area to the far right of the venue. The massive space filled immediately with eager teens and young adults ready to dance the night away and sing along until their voices were long lost.

The clock on the wall read 10:00pm, and the party was just getting started.  


* * *

“Adrien, I’m bored,” Chloe whined.

Honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. A cocktail party full of adults standing in circles with wine glasses humble-bragging about their lives wasn’t exactly the place that three teenagers wanted to be on a Friday night. 

At least Nino was entertaining himself with the chocolate fountain.

Adrien was on full alert, making sure to remain on his best possible behavior. Some might call it paranoid, especially since the security team had made sure that no paparazzi or unauthorized guests were within a thousand feet of the house, but Adrien was still on edge. There was no telling who here may have loose lips and let something slip from tonight. So he had to make sure there was nothing to slip. 

“It’s been more than two hours,” Chloe reminded him. “I kept my promise, it’s time for you to keep yours.” 

There goes the guilt again. It reared its ugly head time and time again throughout the night as Adrien watched his friends work to fight off their boredom. They were itching to do something – anything – more exciting than this, and honestly, so was he. 

Nino walked up behind them, the tiniest bit of chocolate still smeared on the corner of his mouth. 

“So we’ve conquered the hors d’oeuvres and listened to some snazzy piano music. What’s next on our agenda, kids?” 

“Oh, I’ve got a good one!” Chloe said. “Let’s leave.” 

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had in your entire life,” Nino said. He turned to Adrien. “I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I can only eat finger foods for so long. We can have one night out without you getting in trouble. You’re not under house arrest, dude, you’re allowed to leave.” 

It was easy for him to say. Sure, there was no official order or locked door keeping him in, but he still felt the weight of his reputation pulling him back behind closed doors at all times. 

Both Chloe and Nino pleaded with puppy dog eyes. Damn them. Alone, one of them could be convincing, but when they teamed up against him, it was impossible to say no. 

Then again, glancing around the backyard, it seemed that no one was really paying any mind to the teens. Maybe they’d be able to get away for a little while without anyone noticing. 

“Fine,” Adrien said. Nino opened his mouth to let out a cheer, and Adrien immediately muffled it with his hand. “But be subtle.” 

“I’ll get my keys!” Nino ditched his paper plate in a nearby trash bin and took off into the house with Chloe hot on his trail. 

Adrien was stealthier about his exit. He trailed his way down the dessert table, pretending to be deliberating between options. He took one last paranoid glance over his shoulder and realized that his acting chops could rest for the time being. No one was paying him any attention whatsoever. 

Freedom.  
Nino pulled up his car and Chloe plugged coordinates into the GPS by the time Adrien had made it out of the front door. 

Luckily, when they pulled up to the club half an hour later, the second band’s set was just starting, leaving everyone in the venue too distracted to notice their entrance. Chloe made a beeline for the V.I.P. lounge upstairs and wasted no time ordering the most sugary, caloric drink on the menu. 

Nino settled into a couch in the far back corner. He closed his eyes and swayed to the music, looking and feeling like he was in heaven. Places like this were his natural habitat. 

Adrien, however, couldn’t help but notice the sinking feeling in his stomach that appeared the moment he stepped out of Nino’s car. There were so many cellphones. So many potential fans who could notice him and stop him at any moment. So many things could go wrong. He picked up his pace, taking the stairs two at a time and keeping his head ducked down until he was sure no one could be following him. 

Two more weeks of this. No problem at all. He’d let Chloe and Nino have their fun for a bit, then they’d duck out before the crowds got too thin. With how the party had been going back at home, no one would even notice he was gone.

A smile crept to his face. Nathalie’s reaction to this would be priceless. There might be actual smoke coming out of her ears. That alone would be worth it. 

And yet, he still couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. 

Chloe dropped down next to Adrien on the small couch, practically sitting in his lap, taking extra care not to spill her drink. The doorman hadn’t stopped to stamp their hands, Adrien noticed. 

Chloe was thinking the same thing, apparently. “Don’t worry, it’s just juice and soda,” she said. “Americans and their silly drinking laws. I’m not going to get you in trouble. Here, take a sip.” 

Not that he had much of a choice – Chloe practically shoved the straw into his mouth. The blue slush concoction was way too sweet and gave him brain freeze. He didn’t want to think about how much sugar was in even one sip of it. 

His dietician was going to kill him. It was wonderful. 

“Dance with me,” he said to Chloe. 

“Now?” she had just enough time to put her drink down before Adrien grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. 

“Why not?” The rest of the V.I.P. lounge was empty aside from the bouncer, the band downstairs was playing some ridiculous rock song, and the Adrien who had scaled his rooftops for fun had returned ready to have some fun. 

He spun wildly in circles, taking advantage of all the extra space around them. He was completely off beat and he was bound to trip over his super squeaky dress shoes, but for just a moment, he didn’t care.

The three of them radiated pure joy. Why wouldn’t they? They were living the teenage dream – sneaking out late at night, hyped up on sugar, adrenaline, and the company of amazing friends. 

Swaying along to an album’s worth of rock ballads and downing slushies all night - it didn’t get much better than this. 

Moments like this made the stress melt away. He’d sit through a million photo shoots, try out dozens of ridiculous diets, and sit in stuffy vehicles for hours if it meant he got to let loose and have the time of his life with his best friends at the end of it all. 

Once he got out of LA, this could be his life every day. 

Of course, leaving LA would mean there would be a lot less days like this one, with Nino and Chloe by his side. It would probably mean a lot less clubs like this one, which he’d grown to love over the years. He’d likely have to move somewhere with a lot less beaches; somewhere where the sunsets weren’t nearly as breathtaking.

Plus, he couldn’t get away at all if he screwed up tonight and did something reckless. One misstep and he could kiss that dream goodbye.

Adrien immediately felt very dizzy, though he and Chloe had stopped spinning long ago. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You have this weird look in your eye. Here, sit down.” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. Chloe led him back to his seat and helped him down gently. He made a point to lean back and shut his eyes, thinking only the happiest thoughts and hoping that it showed on his face. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

And then a flash went off behind Adrien’s head. 

Adrien’s seemingly cool smile turned panicked in an instant. It might have been an accident, or maybe someone was taking a photo of something else, or maybe a light bulb blew out. Honestly it could have been anything. But the paranoia had been running too high for too long. 

His guilty conscience was back in full control now. Goodbye Rebel Adrien, hello Anxious Adrien. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Adrien was glad that Nino had said it so he didn’t have to. “We’ve been here long enough. You look miserable, dude.” 

Chloe didn’t hesitate to agree. Her feel-good vibes were lost as soon as she’d seen his face. At this point, they had had their fun for the night. The sooner they got Adrien back home, the better. 

“Can you pull around back?” Adrien asked quietly. “I don’t want to be seen.” 

“We’ll meet you in ten,” Nino said, fishing his keys from his back pocket. “The usual spot, okay?” 

He didn’t know what he’d do without Nino. Leaving him was going to be one of the hardest decisions Adrien would ever have to make. He’d have to work extra hard to remember today. It might be one of the last nights they’d have like this.

He watched Nino and Chloe disappear down the front steps before making his way down the back stairwell. It was time to face reality once more.  


* * *

Marinette wanted out now.

The heat was absolutely stifling inside the club. The third band of the night was in the middle of their set, the bass booming loud enough to shake the floors. Somewhere in the midst of dancing bodies, Alya was probably having the time of her life. Marinette wouldn’t know, since she’d been pushed far into one of the back walls and trapped, unable to make her way back to the front of the stage where she’d lost her friend. She could barely move an inch without getting her feet stepped on or her bag snagged on someone’s jewelry. 

So far the Adrien hunt had been a total bust, and Marinette honestly couldn’t tell if Alya cared or not. When they first walked in, Alya had been balancing on her toes, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of blonde hair and making a beeline towards anyone who even mildly resembled the model from the back. Her cellphone had stayed tight in her grip, ready to record anything and everything she may see that was blog worthy. 

Then the band onstage played a song she remembered. And a boy at the juice bar had offered to buy her some colorful concoction (“It’s not alcoholic, I promise,” the bartender had said as he slid it over). In no time she blended right in with the local girls who were just so ready to let loose and have some fun. It was like she had gotten so swept up in the night that she had forgotten all about her mission. 

Marinette wished she could forget about everything right now. The too-loud music, the sickly sweet smell in the air, the pure frustration she felt after essentially getting left alone in a corner in a strange country surrounded by what could have been very dangerous people. 

She needed some air. She silently promised herself she’d only be gone for a second. No way she was leaving her best friend to fend for herself in a place like this.

Attempting to escape to the women’s bathroom was an absolute bust – it was full of girls reapplying makeup and spraying obnoxious amounts of perfume into the air, clouding everyone’s senses with the scent of cherry blossoms. 

The upstairs lounge area was no better. Dozens of chairs and couches sat in semicircle formations, all crowded with boys who were guzzling down bar snacks and yelling at an American football game on a nearby television. 

There was no chance of her passing off as a celebrity to sneak into the quieter V.I.P. section, either. 

Slowly but surely, Marinette wiggled her way to the front of the venue and back out through the doors they’d entered an hour prior. Even outside hadn’t offered enough peace, as large groups gathered on the sidewalks to smoke and discuss their other plans for the rest of the night. 

Holding her breath, she put her head down and tried to seem confident as she walked away as quickly as possible. There was no need to draw attention to herself, especially not by sending herself into a coughing fit. 

Part of her wanted to try getting another taxi and heading back to the hotel on her own. Alya had done it the first time, it couldn’t be too hard, right? 

Of course, she and Alya were supposed to stay together, and leaving Alya inside a club while she got a ride to somewhere miles away was definitely not one of the rules she’d promised to abide by. 

After another minute, Marinette slowed to a stop, feeling like she was far away enough to finally breathe. The booming bass was still audible, but just barely. She glanced up and blinked in confusion. The neon lights of the club’s sign were nowhere to be seen. Had she really gotten turned around that easily? She couldn’t have walked far.

Great, she thought. 

She could feel her eyes start to well up with frustrated tears. Why had she even let herself get talked into doing this? She could have had a nice two weeks, lounging on beaches and drawing in her book, but instead, she was here. Lost in an alleyway with no idea how to get back to her friend. Her friend who could have gotten in all sorts of danger while she was alone in there. 

She was too busy letting her anxieties get the best of her to notice the door to her left, much less react quickly enough when it swung open violently, landing a direct hit to her face and turning her entire world to black.


	4. Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up being way longer than I meant it to be, whoops

Marinette’s head was pounding. 

The dull ache that had sprouted from the point on contact on her forehead had quickly developed into a full-on migraine. Her vision was so blurred that she felt like she was one misstep away from falling to the floor and never getting back up. Wait, was she even standing up? 

“Oh my god!” A male voice shouted. He sounded so far away, she could barely understand him. “Are you okay?” 

Marinette opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she groaned loudly and slumped forward directly into the boy’s arms.

“Please tell me you’re not unconscious,” even though he sounded muffled, it was clear he was terrified. He tilted Marinette’s face up to get a better look at her, pointing her towards the light hanging over the door. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried her best to release herself from his grip. “’S too bright,” she muttered. 

Closing her eyes definitely helped. She flailed around blindly, double-checking for any missing limbs and realizing that she was indeed already on the ground. The entire world was spinning. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” the boy’s voice said again.

Slowly but surely, Marinette risked opening her eyes again, and was met with twin images of a teenage boy kneeling in front of her. A couple slow blinks later, and the two sides of her vision merged into one another and-

Okay, maybe she had fallen unconscious, because what she was seeing in front of her couldn’t possibly be real.

It was him. The model. Adrien, Alya’s blog boy - in all his tall, lanky, green-eyed glory - was staring down at Marinette like she had just grown an extra head. 

Yes, she was definitely hallucinating. That could explain why it suddenly felt so hot out here. 

He was asking her a question, she realized as she snapped herself out of her thoughts. He’d been talking this whole time. Speaking English, Marinette remembered. She had to concentrate hard to understand it all, which was not easy in her current state. 

She’d been staring for far too long. “Do you know who I am?” he questioned her.

Marinette shook her head slowly. She had been dazed before, but now she felt like she was on an entirely different planet. 

“Can you understand me?” was his next question. Clearly, she looked just as confused as she felt.

“Yes,” Marinette searched her mind for the right English words. Understanding the language was much easier than speaking it. “It’s a little hard, but I hear you.” 

“Here, let me help you,” he offered a hand, which she took gladly.

His grip was solid, strong. He felt all too real to be a dream. He was so warm.

This could not be happening. 

“I am so sorry,” he continued, staring at her with wide eyes. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, it’s totally my fault. Do you need some water, or an aspirin? Or a hospital?”

His eyes. Wow. They were so green. 

“I think I need to sit back down,” she said. 

The boy glanced over his shoulder, looking worried. “Well, there’s nothing but hard concrete out here, and I don’t think taking you back into the club would help. All that pounding music can’t be good for your head.” 

He was making up excuses, Marinette could tell. Judging by how hard that door had swung and hit her, he had been in a rush to get out of there. What had be been running from? 

His eyes lit up suddenly. “I think I know somewhere we can go.”

We can go. Yes, that sounded nice. 

“Here, let me get your things,” the boy made sure Marinette was standing steadily before kneeling back down to grab something.

Her heart skipped a beat once she realized what he was reachaing for. During the crash, her backpack had fallen off. Her sketchbook and supplies had spilled out when she fell, and the page had opened right to-

“Oh,” the tiniest hint of a laugh left the boy’s lips. “This is interesting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marinette lied. She wished she could muster up the energy to snatch the book from his hands and run away to hide her face in shame for the next two weeks. 

He pointed a single finger at the top of the page. “Well, that’s my name, and that-“ his finger trailed down the page, “-looks an awful lot like my face. And I thought you said you didn’t recognize me.”

So that confirmed it then. Not only had mister teen magazine come to life right before her eyes, but he was currently scrutinizing Marinette’s designs with a curious expression on his face. 

And still standing so, so close. She took a cautious step backwards, begging the fluttering feeling in her stomach to go away. 

“They’re not much,” Marinette began, then immediately regretted it. They were amazing designs. Some of her best work, actually, and she was confident about that much. Why was she acting like this?

It was the head trauma. Yeah, that could explain why she was literally seeing stars, whether her eyes were open or shut. And she could blame the July temperatures for the heat she was feeling all over.

“These are actually really good,” he smiled at her. Even his stupid teeth were perfect, damn him. “You know, I can sign these if you want. As an apology for… you know. Everything. So long as you promise not to sell them online,” he joked. 

“I don’t want your autograph,” Marinette said quickly. After realizing how rude she sounded, she continued, “I don’t want to mess up the designs. But thanks for the offer.” 

Adrien thought it over for a moment. “I want to make this up to you somehow. How about I run these by my dad’s assistant for you? I’m sure if he looked over him he’d see something he liked.” 

An actual famous designer, liking something she made? Or, even better, wanting to help her bring her creations to life? The very idea of it made her feel like she was going to faint.

Suddenly that didn’t seem at all like a far-fetched idea. The pain behind her eyes became so searing it nearly blinded her. She couldn’t help but cry out in pain and reach out to Adrien to support so she wouldn’t fall again. Her entire world tipped sideways as if she were floating, she felt herself falling, her mind went blank, and then, she felt nothing at all.

* * *

Of course, this is just what Adrien needed to turn his night from good to great: an unconscious stranger in his arms. 

Luckily, the girl didn’t weigh much. Adrien just barely had to tighten his grip to keep her from completely over. 

If anyone happened to stroll down this alleyway, they’d stumble upon a very sketchy situation. They’d assume he was robbing her, judging by the way all of her belongings were strewn about. Or they’d notice she was passed out and assume something even worse. He was majorly screwed. How was he going to explain this? Nino and Chloe would be pulling up any minute now.

Unless…

He fished his phone from his back pocket, pressing the first number on speed dial and praying that the call would go through on time. Every buzz of the dial tone increased his fear tenfold until finally, the call clicked through.

“Hey, Adrien, we’re just about to get in the car-“ 

“DON’T!” Adrien flinched, realizing that it probably wasn’t the best idea to be yelling this loud. He risked a glance at the girl, who was still out cold but thankfully was otherwise unharmed. The reddish bruise on her forehead was reducing in size by the minute. He took another deep breath. “Nino, I need you to come alone.” 

Chloe was asking a flurry of questions in the background, no doubt wondering what could have changed so quickly. Nino sounded equally as confused. “Why?” he asked slowly. 

“It’s a long story,” Adrien spoke so fast he nearly tripped over his words. “Please. It’s an emergency. I promise I’ll explain everything later, I just need you to trust me.”

Nino was quiet. Too quiet, for far too long. 

“I’ll be there in two minutes,” he said finally. 

Despite the fact that the girl was still leaning on him, Adrien felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. Nino ended the call before Adrien could begin gushing about how much of a lifesaver he was. Adrien would never complain about his kitchen raiding again. 

Focusing back on the more immediate issue, Adrien lowered the girl back to the ground, resting her against the wall to help her sit up at least semi-straight. Before, the poor girl was downright terrified, and she had had every reason to be. But now she looked positively peaceful, almost as if she were taking a nap. 

Her forehead had a small red knot forming, barely visible just underneath her hair. Unless you looked closely, there was no way of knowing that anything was wrong.

A small part of Adrien hoped that she had hit her head so hard that she wouldn’t remember any of this. As selfish as it may be, he was still paranoid that word would spread about his little outing and he’d be done for. And this girl knew who he was, despite her denial, since she’d clearly spent a lot of time drawing him out.

Taking another glance at the girl’s book, Adrien smiled to himself. Sure, there were times where he’d try his best to flatter and compliment to try to network with big names in the business, but his compliments toward the girl were genuine. Adrien bet himself that he could slip some of the drawings into his dad’s office and Gabriel Agreste would be none the wiser; her designs would blend in so well with the other works he had pinned to the walls as part of his ‘artistic musings’, there was a definite chance he really would like something that he saw from her. 

“What the hell?” Nino shouted. 

Adrien hadn’t even noticed the headlights of the car pull up behind him. Nino jumped from the driver’s seat and raced over, his eyes wide. 

His head snapped back and forth between Adrien and the girl. “What did you do?” 

“Why are you assuming I did this?” Adrien’s voice cracked. 

Nino didn’t believe it for a second.

“Okay fine, I did this,” Adrien tried his best to explain the situation as quickly as he could. Telling the story back was almost as bad as living through it the first time. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Please, please just let this girl be okay. 

“So let me get this right,” Nino began, flabbergasted. “You knocked this girl unconscious-“

“I didn’t knock her unconscious,” Adrien defended himself poorly. “I just…bumped into her. With a door. But she was awake a minute ago!”

“So why did she faint?” 

“I don’t know Nino, why don’t you ask her? She might have really hurt something, I don’t think its normal to pass out like that from a little bump.” 

Nino pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so after all of that, instead of, oh, I don’t know, calling an ambulance, you decide to make me an accomplice to your crime?” 

“I panicked!” Adrien cried. “Someone probably already saw me inside, I don’t need to draw any more attention to myself. Can you imagine if cops and an ambulance showed up? They’ll have to question me, I was the only witness.” 

“You weren’t just a witness, you’re the perpetrator,” Nino pointed out.

“You’re not helping!”

The girl groaned and threw a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the bright headlights. She muttered something neither boy could quite catch. Adrien held a single finger in front of his mouth, signaling Nino to stay quiet. 

“What happened?” the girl pushed her hair from her face, still watching Adrien with that weird look on her face that she’d had earlier. Sure, Adrien was used to plenty of people staring, but they usually looked happy or excited. But this girl, she just looked…confused. Not necessarily about the situation, but specifically about him. 

“You fainted,” Adrien spoke gently. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him or to dislike him, though in the past few minutes she had been given plenty of reasons to want nothing to do with him. “You might have a concussion. Can we take you to a hospital?” 

The girl backed up even further into the wall, which was almost impossible. “No, I… I’ll be in huge trouble, can you just take me back to my hotel?” 

“I can’t leave you in good conscience like this. You hit your head really hard.” 

Her expression dropped completely, going from confused to annoyed in an instant. “Oh, did I really? I didn’t notice.” 

“Let me make it up to you,” Adrien insisted. “I can get you some painkillers and give you some time to rest and work off the headache, and then I’ll bring you right back. We won’t involve any hospitals or police or anyone. Okay?” 

“…Okay,” she said finally. 

Adrien offered his hand once again. This time, the girl was hesitant, taking hold of his grasp much less firmly than before. She wobbled only slightly upon standing, which was a welcomed improvement. Adrien didn’t fail to notice how quickly she pulled away once she was standing, either.

“It’s okay, take your time,” Adrien felt the odd impulse to put his hand on her shoulder or back just to make sure she didn’t fall over again, but she seemed to be making her way towards the car just fine without him. She really wasn’t helping with his endless guilt trip. 

He knelt down and picked up her bag and everything that had fallen, hoping to make some kind of positive impression. No doubt she wouldn’t be too impressed by the basic act of chivalry – after all, if you have the nerve to seriously injure someone, the least you can do is pick up their things for them – but Adrien figured any small action would help lower the tension of the situation. 

“What did you do with Chloe?” Adrien asked, only just now noticing that Nino had listened after all, and the other girl was nowhere to be seen.

“I sent her on ahead in a cab,” Nino shrugged. “Hopefully she’s not too pissed at you later.”

The girl tensed up suddenly and gasped. 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot. My friend, Alya,” she said. “She’s still inside. I can’t leave her.”

Of course. One more fantastic thing to add to the pile of perfection that was tonight. 

“Can’t you call her?” Nino asked the obvious. 

“We didn’t get international service,” the girl shook her head. “The call won’t go through.”

Nino and Adrien exchanged a look. The funny thing about their friendship was that, even without saying a word, both boys could sense what the other was thinking. Their first thought – international service? The second thought was more of a request on Adrien’s part, one more thing that he would owe Nino big time for. 

“No,” Nino said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Adrien pleaded silently, doing his best beggar hands and sad frown. 

Nino groaned. “What does your friend look like?” he said to the girl, making a point not to look at her. 

“My height, red hair, glasses, probably on her phone” she paused to think. “She was wearing a really short black dress and heels.” 

Adrien winked at Nino, who was already eyeing the front of the building, ready to go. 

“The things I do for you, Agreste,” he dropped the car key into Adrien’s hand before turning on his heel and leaving the alleyway. 

The girl watched Nino leave with that same terrified expression that she couldn’t seem to shake. She probably wasn’t too enthused to be left alone with Adrien again. He silently promised himself he’d take special care not to cause any more harm.

He walked to the car and opened the passenger side door – one last small act of kindness couldn’t hurt, could it? 

“After you,” he said. 

* * *

He could not be serious. 

Adrien stood at the car’s side, stubbornly and silently holding the door open for her. He didn’t even look mildly concerned. As if it were completely okay to just welcome a stranger into your (very expensive-looking) car and take them on mysterious joyrides. Was she the only sane person in this weird country? Nothing about this situation was okay. 

Then again, she didn’t exactly have too many options. The pressure behind her eyes grew more painful by the minute. If Mme. Césaire even found out that she and Alya had left the hotel, they’d be toast. 

Reluctantly, Marinette slid into the passenger seat and buckled herself in. Adrien was ever so kind enough to close her door for her. He made his way around the vehicle, sat behind the wheel, and turned the key in the ignition. 

They pulled away from the alley and down a street that was just a little too empty for Marinette’s comfort. Of course, he’d know which routes to take to avoid the most people. Adrien was a decent driver as well, taking care to avoid the potholes and stay exactly at the speed limit. His fingers tapped the wheel with a nervous energy. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words for the situation.

“Sorry for, um, fainting on you like that,” Marinette started. 

“I should be the one apologizing,” Adrien looked relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to speak up first. “Besides, I’m used to people falling for me, maybe just not so literally.”

The regret was immediately visible on his face. One glance at Marinette and he sputtered and tried, unsuccessfully, to backpedal the conversation. 

“I’m sorry, that was the wrong thing to say,” he winced. “I just assumed from the pictures and the way that you’re acting that you were a fan. They usually like when I make jokes like that, so-”

“I know it might be hard to believe, but I’m not one of your admirers,” Marinette blurted out. “And I’m still dazed from my massive head injury, so I’m not exactly feeling like myself right now. My friend Alya was the one who showed me your pictures that I ended up sketching. And sure, she’d probably be falling all over you if she were the one who ran into you. Me, on the other hand? I barely even know who you are.”

The car had stopped at a red light. Adrien stared straight ahead, unblinking and silent. Was he upset? Angry? He had started to get just a little annoying, but now, Marinette wished he would say something. A full thirty seconds had passed and he was still quiet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I’m just…scared,” Marinette could feel prickling behind her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from the headache or if she was tearing up from her frustration. “I’m stuck in an unfamiliar place with a strange boy who is being way too nice to me and I don’t really know how to feel about all of it.”

“No, I get it,” Adrien said gently. “It’s weird. We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.” 

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. It was still frustrating that he was being so nice, but it was also much appreciated. The last thing she needed was to be stranded out here completely alone. At least she had some kind of solace with him here. 

“Wait, one more thing,” he said. 

Well that didn’t last long. 

“You never told me your name.”

“You never asked,” she said, making clear that her sarcasm was more light and witty than rude. “It’s Marinette.” 

“Marinette,” he pronounced the first syllable correctly, unlike most people here, like mahr rather than mair. “That’s really pretty. That’s my last unsolicited comment, I swear.” 

He kept his vow of silence this time around, making driving his top priority.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty, then thirty. The bright lights of the city had long disappeared in the distance. After a while, Marinette couldn’t tell what direction they were facing anymore, what with all of the various back roads and unnecessary turns they’d done to avoid suspicion. They’d been in the car for what felt like ages. On the bright side, at least her headache was going away. Of course, being out of a moving vehicle would help ease her pain a lot more.  
She wanted to try something. “Adrien?” his name felt strange on her lips.

“Yes?” he asked, a bit too excitedly. Marinette’s heartbeat increased ever so slightly. 

Part of her had wished that he wouldn’t respond, that he wouldn’t confirm once again that he was indeed really here in the flesh. She wanted to believe that she was still in the middle of some odd daydream that she couldn’t quite shake herself from. Instead, every minute their conversation continued on solidified the fact that she was really here, that he was really here, and that they were just chatting like none of this was a big deal at all. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You look pale.” 

“No, I just had a question,” it was only partially a lie. “So… do you have your own private hospital wing or something?” 

Adrien laughed. The joyful sound coming from him was refreshing. At least he’d finally stopped with the run on sentences and panicking. “No, I can’t say I do.” 

“Really? Nothing like that at all? I would have suspected someone like you to have all sorts of resources at your fingertips.” She was exchanging sarcastic banter with a celebrity. Who had knocked her unconscious with a door. And then essentially kidnapped her. This was fine. 

“Well, I have a personal trainer-“ Of course he does, Marinette thought, “-but I don’t think he’s good with head trauma. Besides, you said you didn’t want to go to a hospital, right?” 

“Right. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m out here, I could get in a lot of trouble with someone who was counting on me to be responsible.” 

“Well coincidentally enough, I’m trying to avoid trouble right now, too. We’re on the same boat.” 

“You’re a superstar, what could you possibly do to get yourself in trouble?” There were plenty of things she could think of from the top of her head, but more than anything, she wanted to know what his answers would be. 

“I think injuring an innocent bystander would be enough to get a few bad headlines written about me,” he gave her another apologetic smile. 

“Okay, fair point,” Marinette couldn’t help but wonder if her name would be in those headlines too. Or if she didn’t matter enough to be recognized. The front page of the magazine would read: ‘Strange French girl walks headfirst into alley door like an idiot, completely ruins Pretty Boy Adrien Agreste’s entire night’ 

She risked another glance over at him, taking extra care not to stare. It was still hard to process that he was a real, actual person and not just a picture on a screen or billboard. 

Oh god, what was Alya going to say if she found out about this? After screaming for an eternity, she’d probably hound Marinette for every last detail about what he was like in person. She’d only be more determined to keep stalking him around the city for her chance to run into him too. It had only been a day and Marinette was way in over her head about this whole situation, and this was only the beginning. Even once they parted ways tonight, she’d still have to see his face and hear about him constantly. She was never going to get a break. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

“Should I slow down?”

“No!” God forbid she have to spend any more time than necessary suffering through this conversation. Her entire body was so tense she felt like she might just pop a blood vessel. “No, just… get us to wherever we’re going so I can get out of your hair.” 

Moments later, they pulled into a long driveway. Two other cars were parked outside of a garage, and up a pathway to the left sat a smaller house with a single light on inside. A family practice office, Marinette guessed. Maybe Adrien didn’t have his own personal doctors, but he would know where to find someone who would keep quiet about the situation. 

Adrien exited the car first, still taking the time to run to the other side and open Marinette’s door for her again although it was entirely unnecessary. 

“Where are we, exactly?” Marinette asked as she stepped out. 

“Oh, um…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “This is my house.”


	5. Ordinary

The night had gone from strange to completely unbelievable. 

“You’re actually insane, do you know that?” Marinette asked. She still stood frozen, staring straight ahead at the small building at the top of the driveway, still not quite processing the situation.

Adrien tilted his head sideways. “What’s wrong?”

“Why would you think it was a good idea to bring a complete stranger to your house?” Marinette had to count backwards from ten in her head to keep her breathing under control. “I could be a crazed stalker. Or a murderer.”

“When I came up with the idea, you were still knocked out and I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up in time to know where we were,” Adrien shrugged, as if this were the most logical solution to their current situation. “Besides, I felt like I could trust you. You won’t tell any of your friends about this, will you?”

She thought again about the endless screaming she’d hear from Alya if Alya ever found out about any of this. “No. Trust me, I don’t want anyone to know I was here, either.” 

“Well good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. And technically you won’t be in my house. You’ll be in my pool house. Which makes it okay. My actual house is up there,” Adrien pointed to the left. 

Marinette’s jaw dropped. The pool house had been concealed by trees and shrubs, but the lights shining from the mansion ahead were so bright she wondered how she hadn’t noticed them before. Adrien’s house was enormous – of course, she should have suspected as much. Not only that, but there seemed to be dozens of people milling about.

“Is there something going on in there? Is that why we’re out here?” 

“My dad’s assistant is hosting a cocktail party with a bunch of business people,” he sounded positively bored. “I thought it might be a little too loud and bright in there. Plus, if anyone saw me sneaking back in it might not make a good impression.” 

It may be mundane to him, but Marinette thought otherwise. Any kinds of business people associating with Adrien’s family were most likely models and designers. Marinette’s thoughts wandered back to her sketchbook, which was concealed in her backpack in the car’s back seat. 

Dwelling on those thoughts would no doubt only worsen her headache; instead, she tried her best to focus on something else. “Sneaking back in?” she asked. 

“Right,” Adrien said, opening the pool house door. He ushered Marinette in before shutting it behind him. “My friends and I ventured out for a little while. Don’t tell anyone about that either.” 

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Marinette said, only halfway focused on the conversation. Her surroundings were much more interesting: the floors were solid wood, billowing baby blue curtains lined the windows, and ample seating surrounded an entertainment system in the center of the room. A sliding glass door across the room revealed the actual pool, which was surrounded by golden string lights and – was that a waterfall cascading down the back wall? 

Her hands absentmindedly grazed the furniture as she paced the room. The door directly to the left led into a walk-in closet, in which Adrien was busying himself sifting through piles of towels and pool floatation devices looking for something. No doubt the other doors she could see led to rooms just as impressive as this one. And to think, this was probably nothing compared to the rest of the house.

It hadn’t quite dawned on her until now just how insanely rich this boy was. 

Finally, Adrien pulled a small white box from the closet – a first aid kit. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the chair. “I have painkillers in here, and an ice pack. If you want extra pillows so you can lie down, I’m sure that’ll help. I can… What’s wrong?” 

Marinette hadn’t sat down. She shuffled awkwardly back and forth on her feet, feeling downright inadequate. As if anything and everything in this room was too fragile or expensive or important for her to touch. 

She gulped, reluctantly dropping down in the nearest armchair and wishing Adrien would stop staring at her like that. Yes, it was kind of him to worry after she had been through so much tonight, but it didn’t help at all to feel like so much of an outsider in this strange new environment. 

There was no denying that it also made her just a little flustered just how picturesque he looked even when he was concerned. It was always easy to talk about celebrities’ looks and personalities hypothetically, but when one was sitting mere feet away from you watching your every move it became a lot harder to come to terms with. 

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she squeaked. “I’ll, uh…I’ll just take an aspirin.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked, opening the pill bottle for her before handing it over. It was the little things like that that made this all the more frustrating. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, it’s fine,” she shook a single pill from the bottle before placing it down on the side table. “I’m feeling better already, I just need to sit down for a while.” 

As she tipped her head back to swallow the medicine, a sound from her left nearly made her choke. Both she and Adrien jumped to their feet as the front door’s knob turned ever so slowly. 

Adrien turned to her, panicked. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“Neither are you,” Marinette reminded him. 

Without another word, Adrien took Marinette by the shoulders and pushed her into the closet behind him. 

At least she had a decent landing pad – the various towels and inflatables that Adrien had tossed aside earlier still littered the closet floor, making it a lot more comfortable than it should have been. 

He casually leaned against the closet door, hiding Marinette from view as the pool house’s front door opened and a woman in business casual clothing stepped in, looking just a confused as Adrien was as to why she had come in in the first place. 

“Adrien!” she cried, finally catching sight of him. The woman’s voice slurred so much it was no wonder why she took so long getting the door open. “I thought I saw you earlier! You slipped away before I had a chance to come chat!” 

“Right, uh,” Adrien pushed the closet door shut completely with his foot, shrouding Marinette in complete darkness. This night just kept getting better. “I stepped away for a second for some fresh air, but I was just on my way back out there!” 

The voices behind the door were muffled, but thankfully still clear enough that Marinette wouldn’t be completely clueless as to what was going on. “Well hurry out!” the woman was saying. “Everyone’s been waiting to talk to you about the shoot that was released yesterday!” 

“Everyone?” Adrien asked hesitantly. 

“Hm?” the woman was silent for a few seconds before she continued. “Oh, yes, Nathalie went to go fetch you and couldn’t find you. I’ll tell her you were out here-“

“Wait!” Adrien interrupted. “I’ll find her. You go enjoy the party.” 

Adrien must have been ushering the woman out of the door. Marinette didn’t hear her speak again; she only heard the sound of the front door closing and footsteps approaching the closet. 

Marinette rose to her feet as Adrien opened the door, looking absolutely mortified. 

“You know,” Marinette said, careful to steady her speech, “you were right. Laying down did help a little.”

Adrien avoided eye contact. “I’m so sorry about that. You probably hate me right now.” 

Marinette shrugged and walked past him, picking up the medicine bottle and handing it back to him. Act casual. This is fine. “I told you, I barely even know you; I don’t hate you.” 

The two stood in uncomfortable silence, both dreading to state the obvious: Adrien was expected to be at this party, and Marinette was expected to be far, far away, anywhere but here. There would be no easy way out of this. 

“You should go talk with your guests,” Marinette said quietly. “Could I borrow your phone to call a cab back to my hotel or something?”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m not putting you in a sketchy stranger’s car alone this late at night.” Marinette opened her mouth, but Adrien interrupted her. “Okay, I know you were already in a sketchy stranger’s car alone at night. But I know you’re scared and you really would rather not do that again. Plus, I can tell you aren’t from here. You wouldn’t know your way around.”

Marinette frowned. “What gave it away? The accent or the sheer look of terror in my eyes?” 

“Your name,” Adrien said. “It doesn’t sound like anything someone from here would come up with.” 

Marinette gave him a skeptical look.

“You also mentioned that you didn’t have international service before,” he added. “And, okay, maybe you sounded just a little bit European. I’m guessing English was your second language?”

Marinette felt heat rise to her cheeks again. No wonder he had been staring at her so much – he was trying to figure her out. Part of Marinette wondered how long he had been waiting to ask that question. 

Marinette nodded, but didn’t elaborate further, though the look in his eye seemed to beg for her to give up a little more information. It felt weird, having a stranger so quickly pick up on details about her life. Then again, she could open any magazine and easily learn things about him just as quickly; thousands of people knew things about Adrien that he would more than likely rather have be private. It was almost hypocritical of her to want to be so guarded while standing in front of a boy whose entire life was an open book to her and anyone else who would want to know. The entire reason they were stuck in the mess they were in now was because he was trying to avoid yet another private detail of his life from leaking out into the public. The irony was not lost on either of them, evidently.

“Stay here for a little while,” Adrien said after a few long moments of contemplation. “Eat some food, get some rest, and when I’m done taking care of my business I promise I’ll get you back to your friend and I’ll be out of your hair for good.” 

More than anything, Marinette wished she could start the day over and prevent any of this from happening. She was so uncomfortable in this place – especially in his presence, since she still didn’t quite know how she was supposed to act around someone like him – that she wished so badly just to be back in her hotel room. Since that wasn’t an option, she supposed lounging around in a quasi-mansion for an hour or two couldn’t be too bad. It was an improvement from sitting in a dark alleyway nursing her brain injury while two teenage boys yelled at each other. 

“Fine,” she said, teasing. “But only if I can get a plate of truffles and caviar. You people eat that stuff, right?” 

Adrien laughed. “I don’t know about that, but there is a chocolate fountain.” 

“I’m sold,” Marinette followed Adrien out of the pool house’s back door. The two teens meandered their way through the partygoers. 

The backyard area was incredibly spacious, especially to Marinette who didn’t even have any private outdoor space at home aside from her rooftop. The closest thing she had was the park next door; taking a glance around, she suspected Adrien’s yard was at least half the size of that park, if not bigger. 

People were spread out in small social circles in every direction, providing plenty of cover for Marinette to duck and weave her way out of sight, although no one seemed to pay her any mind. She still took caution not to stare at anything or anyone for too long though – it would be pretty obvious to everyone that she was the only person under 35 at this party aside from Adrien, and combining her obvious awestruck look with being dressed in jeans and flats among the sea of pencil skirts and ties would make her stick out like a sore thumb. 

She caught a glance of the woman who had crashed their conversation in the pool house earlier. She was lurking near the bar area with a glass of wine that she clearly did not need. Nearly everyone attending the party was holding a glass or a plate. 

Marinette’s eyes scanned the far side of the yard, looking for the desserts. She had only been halfway joking about the food. Finally her eyes caught sight of the chocolate fountain Adrien had mentioned earlier. And right beside the display – Marinette’s eyes widened - Marlena Césaire stood at the head of the food table. 

The pit in Marinette’s stomach tripled in size. Her headache came back even stronger than before. She yelped, freezing in place. Adrien stopped and turned back to face Marinette.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My friend Alya’s mom is here!” Marinette hid halfway behind his shoulder and pointed Mme. Césaire out in the crowd.

Once Adrien found her, he looked puzzled. “Huh. Small world.”

Marinette had to resist slapping a hand to her forehead in pure frustration. “She was supposed to be at someone with the name Sancouer’s party.” 

“Nathalie,” Adrien nodded. “That’s my dad’s assistant’s last name. She usually books appointments like that to draw away suspicion and paparazzi. It doesn’t always work but it definitely gets rid of some of the uninvited guests. My dad doesn’t put his name on anything but his clothing labels.” 

Marinette had to resist rolling her eyes. Of course the Agrestes had shelled out all of this money and effort for something so casual. The upper class wanted only the best, and there was no better way to get authentic Parisian food than from a Parisian woman. Still, it was impressive that Mme. Césaire had been their choice. She silently reminded herself to congratulate the woman later. 

Instead she asked, “Your dad? Is he here?” 

“No,” Adrien said shortly. Did he sound…annoyed? Angry? There was a harsh undertone to his voice, like he wasn’t surprised at his father’s absence, but he wasn’t happy about it either. 

She decided not to explore the issue further. “She’s exactly the person I was trying to avoid tonight. She can’t see me here or I am so screwed.” 

Luckily Mme. Césaire had been schmoozing with the partygoers and was far too busy accepting compliments on her food to notice anyone who wasn’t in her immediate vicinity. Still, Marinette wanted to get as far away as possible. 

Adrien pointed with two fingers to the back doors of his house. “Go on inside,” he said. “I still need to make sure everything’s okay out here. I’ll come find you in 10 minutes.” 

“I’ll start counting down,” Marinette muttered, wasting no time zipping her way through the yard and up the back steps. She could feel Adrien’s eyes on the back of her head, even as he walked off in his own direction to find his assistant and set things straight.

Stepping through the glass doors of the Agreste house, she wandered aimlessly, hoping to find somewhere where she could get away from the windows – why did one house need this many windows? Practically the entire back wall of the house was glass, giving a beautiful view of the dozens of acres of land that spread out behind the house. In any other situation, Marinette would have stopped to take in the scenery, but the thought that someone outside could glance up and notice her at any moment motivated her to move on elsewhere. 

Every tiny noise set her on edge as she ventured further into the living area. Her shoes, despite being flat, still clicked far too loudly against the hard wood floors. She took caution not to touch anything. All of the polished, pristine furniture would no doubt show any and all fingerprints of any intruders that dared to put their hands on anything. The furniture looked pristine and untouched; the massive house felt less like a home and more like a display. A very expensive, very flashy display. 

It wasn’t exactly the sightseeing she had been expecting to be doing on this trip. 

Marinette was surprised to notice that there were no photos anywhere. She would have at least expected to see something – snapshots from Adrien’s modeling career, or some examples of his father’s work – but the walls were bare. It left a strange feeling in her gut. Part of her questioned whether or not anyone really lived here, or if the whole building was nothing more than a status symbol. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room and landed on a small black box in one of the high corners.

Her paranoia spiked. She didn’t see a light on the tiny camera, so she hoped no one was watching her, but there was no way to be sure.

She stuck close to the walls, hiding in the shadows as she silently cursed Alya in her head. They could have just stayed in their room for the night, but no. She had to go looking for trouble. Well, surprise! Not only had Marinette found trouble with a capital T, but now she was sneaking around his house in the dead of the night! Alya would have given the world to be here, and Marinette would love nothing more than to trade places with her.

By now, Alya was probably back at the hotel, sound asleep and completely oblivious as to what was going on. Either that, or she was awake frantically scouring the streets of Los Angeles looking for Marinette. Neither possibility was fun to think about. 

Marinette paused in a doorway and took a deep breath. There was no point in getting upset anymore. The damage had been done. There was nothing she could do except try to prevent the situation from going any further south. At the very least, she could admit that neither she nor Adrien were to blame here. They were both in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been trying to help her, after all. Trying to make up for his clumsiness that had nearly landed her in a hospital. And he had looked so worried…

“Marinette?”

Marinette jumped nearly a foot in the air, trying her best to muffle her screech with her hand. How long had Adrien been standing behind her? She prayed she hadn’t been talking out loud – she had a bad habit of angry muttering when she got particularly heated.

Adrien looked taken aback, but not insulted, so Marinette assumed she was in the clear. “What are you doing up here?” 

Looking up, Marinette realized that she had wandered into a long hallway and had been pacing up and down it for who knows how long. The drags of her feet left a mark on the carpet. 

“Uh… I was taking a walk?” she offered. Huh. She actually wasn’t sure what she was doing. “I thought you would take longer outside.” 

“What? I was just about to apologize for taking so long. It’s been nearly thirty minutes,” Adrien frowned. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” 

Now that she thought about it, she had been feeling a little disoriented still. Maybe it was because of all of the adrenaline. Her mind, in its current state, probably couldn’t handle the over stimulation it was experiencing. On top of that, the pain medication was likely making her drowsy. But to zone out for that long and not notice? It was concerning to say the least.

Adrien looked like he was thinking the same thing. “Let’s get you back to your friend now, alright?”

Marinette didn’t bother to protest. She followed Adrien down the stairs (odd, she didn’t remember going up), out of a side door, and down a path back towards the pool house. 

The lights of the Agreste house still shone bright through the trees; it had to be far past midnight, yet everyone there still partied on. 

“Is everything okay?” Marinette whispered, though they were far enough away that she was sure no one else could hear her. “With your assistant, I mean. Was she angry at you?” 

Adrien smiled. “She never noticed I was gone. I’ll have to get my hands on a bottle of whatever your mom’s friend was serving tonight. I’ve never seen Nathalie so oblivious.” 

She smiled, but otherwise stayed quiet as Adrien, still ever-so-chivalrous, opened the car door and closed it behind her. He wasted no time, quickly hopping into the driver’s seat, starting the car, and pulling out onto the street.

Once they’d pulled up to a red light, Adrien reached into the pocket of his hoodie and handed Marinette a smartphone open to the GPS app. (She only noticed now that he had changed clothes. He donned dark jeans and a black hoodie, which would have made him blend into the dark interior of the car had it not been for his light skin and hair.)

She typed in the address of the hotel and placed the phone down without another word. Her eyelids felt heavy. She fought to stay awake, but trying to focus on anything outside of the car only made her dizzy. Looking at Adrien didn’t help her nerves too much, either. 

Another twenty minutes, and she’d be free. According to the GPS, they only had a few more turns before they’d reach the hotel. She would go back to her room, and Adrien back to his home. She could sink into the soft bed, sleep her headache off, and forget all about tonight. No doubt, that’s what Adrien would be doing the minute he got rid of her. Both of them could go on with their lives, blissfully pretending that none of this had ever happened.

That is, only if Alya didn’t have too many questions when they arrived.


	6. Believe

Marinette had expected Adrien to pull up to the front doors of the hotel, graciously eject her from his car, and speed off into the night never to be seen or spoken of again. In fact, she would have preferred that to what he actually did. 

Instead, he parked on a side street eight blocks away and silenced the engine. 

Before she could question what he was doing, he retrieved her bag from the backseat and handed it to her. “Don’t forget this,” Adrien pulled up his dark hood and winked. “I’d hate for you to leave it behind after all the trouble you’ve been through tonight. Come on.” 

He exited the car and stood outside, patiently waiting. At least this time he didn’t find it necessary to open the door for her. 

Marinette walked out slowly, careful not to jostle herself around too much when she slung her bag over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Walking you back to your hotel,” Adrien said, as if he were stating the obvious. “I don’t want anyone recognizing the car, but I can’t have you going back alone either.”

“I don’t need you to-“ Marinette began.

Adrien held a single hand up. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you, I’m walking you back. It’s the least I can do.” 

Clearly there would be no point in protesting. He had already begun his trek down the block, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Marinette was following close behind. Fine. Fifteen more minutes in his presence couldn’t hurt too much. At least, she hoped. She took a cautionary glance around to make sure there were no more doors that could swing open and whack her again.

As late as it was, Marinette was surprised to see that there was still a decent amount of people walking the streets. No one paid attention to the two of them – Adrien had been thinking ahead with his wardrobe change. Once he traveled out of the streetlight glow above, he practically vanished into the shadows. Marinette suspected this was how he went out in public often. Even dedicated fans like Alya wouldn’t always recognize who he was when he wasn’t dressed up and flashing a smile for the cameras. He barely looked like himself, donned in all black and hiding his face.

“So,” Adrien broke the silence after two whole minutes of walking. “You know my dad’s caterer. She’s your friend’s mom, right?” Marinette nodded. “So what are you doing here? No offense.” 

“None taken,” she was only kind of lying. “I’m here to spend some time with Alya and work on my designs,” she stared at the ground, hoping her face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. He was probably thinking about the same thing she was – his face sketched out all over her pages. There would be no taking that back. At least she could dull the embarrassment a little by mentioning the bigger elephant in the room: “And Alya is here to look for you, to be blunt. She’s a huge fan. We can’t let her see you; she’d probably mob you at the door.” 

“Right.” Adrien said. “So I’m guessing it was your friend Alya’s idea to go to the club tonight, too?”

“I don’t exactly strike you as the partying type, huh?” Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alya isn’t usually like that, either. She heard that you go there sometimes so she wanted to get a chance to meet you. I told her it was crazy but she didn’t listen. Really, this is pretty new and exciting for both of us. More exciting for her than me, but…”

Adrien slowed to match Marinette’s pace. “Do you not have places like this in…?” 

Oh. So that’s why he was so chatty. Once again, he was trying to coax information out of her. At this point, Marinette felt that it wouldn’t hurt to let him at least know the basics. No need to spend the rest of the walk in complete silence and make the night any more awkward. 

“Paris,” Marinette finished. “It’s uh… very different from here.” 

Adrien tilted his head back, letting the streetlight illuminate his face. “Paris. C'est magnifique là-bas pendant l'été, tu ne crois pas?” he sighed. 

Marinette’s heartbeat quickened. “How do you-?” 

“I don’t think anyone can live in France for 14 years without picking up on the language a little,” he teased. 

Marinette had to stop herself from gaping at him. Out of all the strange personal details that Alya knew about him, you would think she’d find it important to mention that he was from their home country. Unless she didn’t know. 

“Dad and I lived there for most of my life,” he explained after seeing Marinette’s expression. “I was homeschooled so I never really had friends or a social life. Then, well . . . ” he vaguely gestured with his left hand, “Then all of this happened. I was brought here for one of my first big gigs and we never looked back.” 

Of course, this also meant he had probably been lying through his teeth earlier when he had said she sounded ‘just a little bit European’. No doubt he had placed her accent right away and had just been waiting for her to confirm it. He had also pronounced her name correctly on the first try. It was fairly obvious, looking back. He wanted to learn more about her because they had something huge in common. Marinette bit her lip to resist smiling. 

“The summers are beautiful back at home,” she answered his earlier question quietly. 

Adrien smiled sadly. “I wish I could remember them more clearly,” he said. “One of these days I’ll have to take a week or two off and visit again. I never got to properly say goodbye.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Adrien looked like he regretted it. He shrugged, trying to pass the comment off as casual.

Marinette wasn’t fooled. She nearly stopped in her tracks. A million more questions ran through her head, many of which would have felt far too intrusive to ask. She settled on asking, “Did you not have a say in it?”

“Not exactly.”

“So your parents moved you halfway around the world without even asking you?” 

“My dad did,” his earlier playful demeanor had been replaced with a more somber tone. “It’s all part of the business. You go wherever you’ll get the most attention and opportunity. And Los Angeles was it for us.” He shook his head and smiled; he could probably feel the tension he’d created and tried his best to dissipate it. “I can’t say I’m too mad about the scenery here, though. You’re right, it is very different, but not in a bad way.” 

“I’m sure different doesn’t even begin to describe it for you,” Marinette took three large steps to match Adrien’s pace again. He was over a head taller than her, and his long legs accounted for most of that; even though she felt like she was walking the same speed as him, he kept getting ahead of her. “In Paris, you probably wouldn’t have to sneak around in all black and ditch your car in alleyways to hide from people.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” Adrien said. He glanced around the street making sure no one was too close nearby before pulling his hood off. “I probably don’t have to be so careful here either, but sometimes it’s better to be safe than sorry. Tonight’s been pretty quiet though. I haven’t bumped into a single fan or paparazzi. In fact,” Adrien smiled at her – a real, genuine smile this time. “I think you’re the first girl I’ve met in years who didn’t ask for a picture or an autograph right away. If I had to bump into anyone today, I’m glad it was you.” 

She opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words. It had been such an innocent comment, but it had sent her mind racing. 

Obviously Adrien had had endless amounts of female attention over the years. With his fame and his money and his looks - even the most stubborn of people couldn’t deny that he was attractive, but Marinette still wouldn’t dare say it aloud - he probably had to fight his way out of his sea of endless admirers on a daily basis. It was easy to imagine how exhausting that could be, and his paranoia seemed completely justified. 

And yet, he had spent all this time tonight with Marinette when he could have swatted her away like he did everyone else. He’d even gone as far as to at least partially let his guard down around her. Plus, his last statement had definitely been an offhand compliment, and that hadn’t been the first one he’d given her that night. 

That frustrating warm buzzing feeling had come back, stronger than ever. 

She could hear the echo of Alya’s voice in her head now, ‘You’ll come to your senses eventually’. If “coming to her senses” meant becoming a blushing stuttering mess over a celebrity like every other teenage girl in this city, Marinette wanted to get far, far away from her senses as soon as possible. There was no way in hell she was going to let herself think even for a moment that Adrien was anything more than a regular person who was being polite by doing her a favor. She was not going to go down that road.

If Adrien had any idea just how flustered Marinette felt, he didn’t show it. He tossed his head back and walked ahead, whistling a tune as Marinette followed behind in silence. It was a relief when she could finally see the hotel lights up ahead. 

“This is it,” Marinette said as they both slowed to a stop a few feet away from the doors.

“Swanky place,” Adrien muttered, staring up at the hotel’s signage.

She snorted, “Yeah, apparently your family is paying for it. So thanks?” She took her bag off she shoulder and opened the main zipper, looking for her key. The plastic card was nowhere to be found, though she could have sworn she tucked it away in here. 

At this late hour, access to the lobby was restricted only to those staying in the hotel – only people who had a key could swipe themselves in. 

Her heart dropped as a blurry image of all of her belongings strewn about in a dark alley flashed in front of her eyes. Just her luck, it probably fell out when she and Adrien had run into each other and she dropped her things. 

“Looking for something?” Adrien asked. 

“My key,” Marinette muttered, frantically searching the bag over again. Adrien frowned. “Maybe I just misplaced it?” she suggested. 

“I probably didn’t see it when I was picking up your stuff for you,” Adrien groaned. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket once again and handed it to Marinette. “Call your friend. Have her let you in-“

“If she sees you-“ Marinette warned.

Adrien held up a defensive hand. “She won’t. I’ll just wait long enough to make sure someone is here to let you in; I’ll be gone before she can notice me. Promise.” He crossed his fingers for extra measure. “And I know I haven’t made the best first impression with you, but if there’s anything else I can do to make it up to you, please tell me.” 

Marinette shook her head as she dialed the number to the room – luckily she had thought ahead and remembered to memorize it before she left. “You gave me aspirin and let me hang out in your closet, what more could I ask?”

Adrien hung his head in shame, but couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m really sorry about that. And for hitting you with the door. And for losing your key. Man, I really messed up tonight.” 

Marinette held a finger to her mouth to quiet him. The dial tone rang only once before a frantic Alya picked up. “Hello?” 

“Alya?” Marinette said slowly. “It’s me.” 

The speaker on the phone nearly blew out as a loud thud sounded on the other side of the line. Alya must have dropped the phone. A few seconds of shuffling passed before Alya spoke again. “Marinette! Oh my god, I’ve been losing my mind trying to figure out where you are. Do I need to call the cops? Have you been kidnapped?” 

Was it considered kidnapping if she went along willingly? Marinette glanced up at Adrien, who was politely reading the street signs above and pretending not to listen to her conversation. 

“I got a cab. The driver let me borrow his phone to call,” she said quickly. “Listen, I’m downstairs but I got locked out, can you come let me in?” 

“Of course!” Alya said. “Hold on, let me put my shoes on.” 

Marinette lowered the phone from her ear. “She’s on her way,” she said, muffling the speaker with her hand just in case. “Thank you, again.”

“No, thank you. I uh…” he said hesitantly. “I hope I can trust you not to let… any of this get out.” 

Adrien had nothing to worry about. Even if Marinette had shouted about her night from the rooftops, she highly doubted anyone would believe her. Even the tiny part in the back of her mind that wanted to spill her secrets was far overpowered by her wish to protect Adrien’s reputation. It was the least she could do for him. She gave him a reassuring smile. “I wouldn’t think of it.” 

The hotel’s glass door slid open, the screeching sound effectively ruining any sense of calm or reassurance either of them had been feeling. 

Adrien practically vanished behind the corner, his feet reacting faster than Marinette could process. By now he was probably used to the knee-jerk reaction of hiding from people, but she was still shocked at just how fast he’d managed to move out of the way.

Marinette squinted into the dark, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him, but he was already gone. Rid of Marinette and off back to his wonderful life, just like that. 

And his cellphone was still in Marinette’s hand. 

No. No no no. 

Marinette had no time to go after him. She quickly shoved the phone into the bottom of her bag as Alya pushed through the second set of doors. Luckily, the other girl hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary.

She came bounding outside, pouncing on Marinette and nearly knocking her over. Her makeup was smudged, her shoes still untied, and she was beaming like a madwoman.

“Where have you been?” Alya asked, pulling away. “I’ve been worried sick! You would not believe the night I’ve had!” 

Nothing could possibly top the rollercoaster Marinette had been on (and was still on) tonight. Still, she decided to humor Alya. “When we got separated I went for a walk. Then it got so late I figured you had already left the club, so I decided to just meet you back here. I’m sure your night was much more exciting,” the lie came easily.

“It was!” Alya gushed. “You won’t believe who I… where’s your cab?”

Marinette paled. “What?” 

Alya looked up and down the street, confused. “You said you took a cab back here.” 

Oh. Right. “He drove away,” Marinette said, praying her voice would stay level. “Very fast.”

Alya didn’t dwell on it. She was bouncing in place, nearly about to explode with whatever groundbreaking news she couldn’t wait to tell Marinette. “Well I became one step closer to achieving my life’s dream! Guess who I ran into at the club?” 

Nino. And she didn’t run into him, he was sent in after her to find her and get her back to the hotel safely, which, evidently, he had done a good job of. 

“Who?” Marinette feigned ignorance as they walked inside. 

The whole trip upstairs, Alya talked her ear off about how she’d ‘gotten thiiiiis close’ and how Nino is ‘practically Adrien’s best friend, so that has to mean he was there today too!’ and how she ‘basically rode in a car with a minor celebrity, so that has to count for something’. Marinette took each word graciously despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to collapse into her bed and sleep for the next day or two.

Mme. Césaire still hadn’t made her way back from Adrien’s party, which left Alya the freedom to talk about her night as loudly and obnoxiously as she wished. She rambled endlessly for nearly an hour as Marinette got ready for bed. 

The girls finally retired to their bedroom at close to 2am. Marinette had gently placed her bag by her bedside table, praying the phone inside wouldn’t go off. She couldn’t risk taking it out in front of Alya and getting questioned, but she couldn’t help but stare anxiously. 

The phone stayed silent, and eventually Alya quieted down too. As much as Marinette wanted to relax, her wild thoughts and ever-persistent headache made it incredibly difficult. She stared at the ceiling, images of her night intrusively dancing in her head. 

As she forced herself to try to sleep, she had a feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of Adrien Agreste. It was hard to tell if she was happy about it or not.

* * *

Adrien felt like he was on top of the world.

Not only had he successfully gotten in and out of his house unnoticed twice, but he’d also managed to wriggle his way out of every bad situation he’d gotten himself into tonight completely unscathed. Aside from that little trickle of guilt he was still working to forget about.

Most importantly, he had made a connection to home. As much as he tried to push Paris out of his mind and focus on his life and career here, he still longed for any small confirmation that his small piece of comfort and familiarity was still out there somewhere. He could always look at photos, but that was nothing compared to hearing about it firsthand from someone who loved the city just as much as he did. 

For the first time in years, he had a fresh memory of Paris that wasn’t painful. For once, Paris wasn’t just the place where he left most of his family, friends, and happiness behind. Now it was the place with smaller crowds and milder summers and talented young designers. 

He’d almost been sad about leaving Marinette behind at the hotel. He had so many more questions for her. 

By the time he made his way back home, the party had died down. A few people stood around in the backyard cleaning up the last of the food and décor. None of them paid any mind to Adrien as he swiped a small dessert cake from the table and gracefully shoved it into his mouth before retreating into the house.

Inside, it was quiet as usual. To no one’s surprise, Gabriel Agreste hadn’t had a change of heart and decided to show up at his own event for once. 

Sad, lonely reality sank in as Adrien made his way up to his bedroom. He debated in his mind whether he should stay up late, stuffing his face with junk food and binge watching a pointless sitcom just to put the cherry on top of his reckless teenage behavior for the night, but his tired feet pointed him straight upstairs. Playtime was over. 

He’d just barely creaked open his bedroom door when an accusing voice in the hallway behind him asked, “Where have you been?”

Adrien’s heart sank to his toes – busted. He was so close too. 

He sighed and turned on his heel, ready to face an angry Nathalie’s wrath and graciously accept whatever punishment she was about to give. Only it wasn’t Nathalie standing in the dark hallway, tapping her foot impatiently. It was Chloe. 

She stood in the dark corner, barely visible unless you squinted. Her face was makeup-free and she was dressed in rumpled pajamas. More than likely, she’d been asleep and woken up to the sound of Adrien coming in. Either that, or she’d stayed up waiting for him. Either way, she was more than eager to let him know just how pissed she was. 

“Do you want to tell me why Nino tossed me into the back seat of a cab and left me?” she continued, her cold gaze boring into Adrien like daggers. Every bit of sleepiness and euphoria he’d felt before vanished. Nothing could suck the joy out of a situation quite like an angry Chloe Bourgeois. 

“Chloe!” Adrien tried to nonchalantly lean against the doorframe. “I didn’t see you come in.” 

Chloe sighed. “Nino said you had some ‘business’ to take care of,” she put air quotes around the word before folding her arms across her chest in a huff. “What was so important that you had to leave me?” 

“I ran into someone,” The corners of his mouth nearly quirked up at his own inside joke, but the look Chloe was giving him shut that down right away. “I had to smooth things over, you know. Make sure they’d stay quiet. I thought it would be better to split up to draw less attention.”

“So after you got home safe, why did you choose to leave again?” she asked. “I could have sworn I saw your car outside, but when I looked for you, you were gone. I stayed up waiting for you to get back.” 

She had gotten very quiet. A quiet Chloe was almost scarier than an angry Chloe. When she got quiet, you knew she was incredibly upset. 

“I forgot something at the club and went back for it,” Every lie only increased the guilt eating away at him. Lying to your best friend’s face was hard normally, but when Chloe got that pouted-lip, watery-eyed look on her face, it felt like he’d just kicked a puppy. “I really am sorry, Chloe. It’s late and I’m sure we’re both tired. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Okay?”

Chloe waited a full ten seconds before nodding slowly. Adrien, feeling triumphant as ever, turned to retire to bed before Chloe stopped him one last time. 

“There was a girl walking around your house,” she said. “I saw her.” 

“Really?” Adrien asked, throwing in a yawn for extra measure. “That’s strange. I didn’t see anyone go in.” 

In the long run it’d only make things worse if she found out the truth – but how was he supposed to explain what really happened tonight without sounding like a crazy person? Yes, I did indeed run into a random girl in an alley and impulsively decide to bring her to my house because A) I owed her a serious debt for nearly killing her and couldn’t think of a better option, and B) she was the only French girl besides you that I’ve met in years and I needed to find some excuse to talk to her.

The thing about Chloe was that she refused to talk much about home, even when Adrien practically begged her to. Her excuse was that she thought it would only make him more upset, that they should focus on the present instead of dwelling on the past. Adrien suspected it was mostly because home seemed so boring to Chloe. Los Angeles was much more appealing to her, and clearly, conversations about Paris were just boring in comparison. After all, she visited Adrien here as often as she possibly could. She’d probably move here herself, if given the opportunity; meanwhile Adrien would give anything to go back, even just for a day. Meeting Marinette today only made that longing grow stronger. It was a frustrating predicament to say the least, and downright aggravating at worst. 

Chloe slowly unfolded her arms and dropped them to her sides, looking defeated. “Okay,” she said finally. “Sorry for keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry for worrying you,” Adrien said. He held his arms open wide in front of him, and Chloe graciously accepted his hug. 

Gently pushing Adrien away, she playfully elbowed him in the ribs before heading back down the hallway towards the guest room. “I’ll start making plans for tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder. “A promise is a promise, Agreste.” 

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but his remorse made him determined not to let her down again. He’d let her have her fun for the rest of her trip – he owed her that much. Still, as he fell asleep, he couldn’t help but think: as fun as Chloe could be, whatever ideas she may come up with would never be quite as memorable as this night had been.


	7. Heart

One of Alya’s best (or worst, depending on how you looked at it) qualities was that once she became focused on a topic she was passionate about, there was no way to get her to stop talking about it.

This morning, it was definitely leaning towards the worst side. She had spent a good portion of the morning aimlessly babbling about what she was calling their “adventure” from last night. Even the bustling traffic outside and the footsteps pounding through the hotel halls couldn’t muffle her excited chatter throughout the morning. It was astonishing to think that they’d been in this city for barely 24 hours and yet, Alya had enough material to drone on for hours.

Marinette had to remind Alya constantly that Mme. Césaire was asleep in the next room only a few feet away and would not be happy to hear what they’d been up to. The poor woman had come in at some point in the night dead on her feet. No doubt she’d continue to rest for most of the morning, which left Alya free once again to do her plotting.

“We have to try again,” Alya talked through bites of pastry – delivered to their room that morning courtesy of Mme. Césaire’s generous sponsor. If only Alya knew that her biggest idol’s family was paying for all of it. She’d lose her mind over the sheer irony.

Alya had already gotten dressed that morning – thankfully wearing much more casual clothing than she had the night before. She’d also downed a cup of coffee and was well into her plotting by the time Marinette joined her in the hotel room’s kitchenette. How she could be so alert so early in the morning was beyond comprehension. Marinette had struggled for ten minutes to just open her eyes. Even now, she took slow, careful sips of her tea, taking special care not to spill on herself in her sleepy state. The steam and strong, bitter aroma, combined with the smooth heat traveling through her stomach only worked to make her even sleepier.

“I don’t know, Alya,” Marinette sipped again before continuing. “Maybe you just got lucky last night?” She could easily use the excuse that she was tired or that she had a headache – which wouldn’t be a complete lie – but if she were being completely honest, part of her wanted to go out and find Adrien again too, even if it were only to return his phone, which was currently burning a hole in the bottom of her backpack.

Alya wasn’t one to give up so easily. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, it was too early to tell.

“I swear we were this close to him Marinette! I know he was there!” Alya insisted. At this point, nothing could convince her otherwise. After her run-in with Nino, she had every right to believe that Adrien had been at the club as well. They were always seen together; as far as she was concerned, she practically had the proof already.

Marinette tried to play it cool and prayed the look on her face wouldn’t confirm Alya’s suspicions. “I guess you could be right,” she tried to keep her voice level. “But what are the chances of actually finding him this time? I mean, if they were both at the club last night, they wouldn’t go out to the same place two nights in a row, would they?”

“Of course not,” Alya furiously punched buttons on her phone. “There are plenty of places they could be. As far as I know, he doesn’t have anything big scheduled, though it would be so much easier to just run into him at an on-location shoot or press event. I’ve got a list of spots he’s been seen at for the past few months, but I have no clue how to narrow it down.”

She pushed the phone under Marinette’s nose, and Marinette had to squint and angle her face away to get a clear view. Alya had opened to a webpage – her own blog – listing dozens of locations around southern California.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” Marinette’s eyes widened.

Alya grinned smugly. “I’m on a mission, and I fully intend to accomplish it. You can side-eye me all you want, but I’m on the right track and you know it.”

Marinette sipped her tea again, giving Alya a skeptical look over the rim of her cup.

“If only there was some way I could figure out where he’d be,” Alya sank into the hotel room’s armchair, fully engrossed in her list of locations. She squinted as she scrolled up and down furiously.

A thought came to Marinette. The pit that had spent the past few hours residing in her stomach now sank down to her knees. She couldn’t admit it to Alya, but she knew exactly how she could narrow down that list. All she had to do was ask.

The trick was to stay calm and casual, so as to not raise suspicion.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Marinette blurted out. She stumbled off the bar stool and slammed her mug down, nearly spilling the last few drops of her tea all over the counter. Alya didn’t try to stop her; she only stared after her with a single confused eyebrow quirked.

Marinette tripped into their temporary bedroom and tried her best not to slam the door behind her. Yep, calm and casual, that was Marinette.

Her backpack still sat unopened at the foot of the bed. Casting paranoid glances over her shoulder, she slowly unzipped the main pocket and fished Adrien’s cellphone out. Alya stayed outside oblivious as Marinette locked herself in the bathroom and turned the showerhead on. Once she was sure there would be no interruptions, she sat perched precariously on the edge of the counter, praying her hands would stop shaking as she pressed the unlock button on the phone.

The first thing she noticed was the lack of a passcode. She had assumed she’d have to do some strategic guessing or pray that Adrien would set up an emergency contact, but she had no issue getting into the phone at all – a simple swipe across the photo of Adrien and Nino on the home screen was all it took to get in. As big of a deal as he was, one would think he’d be a little more careful with his privacy – especially after all of the trouble he’d gone through last night to stay hidden – but apparently the same rules didn’t apply to his cellphone.

The second thing she noticed were the dozens of red dots all over the screen. There had to be close to a hundred unread notifications – calls, texts, emails, even a few of the games had gone untouched for who knows how long. Even as she sat staring at the endless sea of apps, trying to figure out the next step to take, another text message popped up silently at the top of the screen. At least that suspicion had been confirmed: the phone was entirely silenced. There wasn’t even a vibration.

She hadn’t even considered snooping through anything – she had no good reason to invade his privacy like that; but if she was curious enough to go looking for information, he was making it far too easy. She couldn’t help but notice upon opening Adrien’s contacts the utter lack of phone numbers he had stored. Not two seconds of scrolling led her to finding “Nino Lahiffe”.

She’d tried her best to ignore her other findings, though she couldn’t help the way that her heartbeat increased ever so slightly seeing “Gabriel Agreste (Dad)” or the small involuntary frown that took over her expression at the lack of a mother’s phone number.

Calling would be too risky. If Alya overheard anything, there’d be too many questions. She settled on texting Nino.

‘This is Marinette. The girl from last night. I need your help.’

Out of context, there were a thousand inappropriate ways to interpret what that might have meant, but she prayed Nino would understand.

His reply – ‘Seriously?’ – came only moments later.

At least she could count on him to actually read his messages.

For a moment, Marinette stopped to consider whether or not this would be a good idea. She and Nino had only had one very brief, very hostile encounter, and he’d seemed none too happy about having to deal with her last night. Her name popping up in his messages may have very well ruined his entire morning.

Three little dots appeared on the screen for only a second before the next message appeared:

‘Why do you have Adrien’s phone? You’re not still with him, are you?’

Her cheeks flushed. It had been hours - was he implying that she’d spent the night with Adrien? Her curious side wondered if he was the kind of person to bring girls back to his house with less pure intentions, which of course only made her blush more deeply. She shook her head violently, willing the thought away. Why should she care? 

‘No, he let me borrow it. I kept it. Accidentally. I need to give it back.’ She typed out the four sentences as fast as she could.

Clearly Nino was in no rush to reply. The small gray box kept appearing and disappearing as Nino formulated his next message.

Trying her best to occupy herself and distract from the violent thump of her nervous heartbeat in her chest, Marinette managed to brush her teeth, style her hair, and even apply the tiniest bit of makeup before Nino responded. Thankfully the phone was still silenced; had it vibrated on the sink, the sound would have nearly caused her to poke her eye out with the mascara wand.

‘Chloe’s dragging him to The Grove. We’ll meet you there.’ Was all the text said. No explanation of who Chloe was, or where or what The Grove was, either. Both names sounded vaguely familiar, though Marinette couldn’t figure out why.

She didn’t have time to ponder however, as just then, Alya knocked on the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Alya called. “What’s taking so long?”

Marinette had long since turned the shower water off, though the dead silence that had followed for the past twenty minutes was clearly suspicious. But she’d at least gotten the lead she’d been looking for. For the most part. Now all she had to do was set the plan in motion.

She slipped Adrien’s phone into her front pocket before flinging the bathroom door open giving Alya her best ‘I’m not plotting anything’ smile. Calm and casual.

“I’m great!” she squeaked. “The, uh . . . shower water took forever to heat up.”

Alya nodded slowly. “Right,” she gave Marinette a once-over. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Actually, we’re going somewhere,” Marinette squeezed past Alya in the doorway and walked back into their bedroom. She remembered why one of those names sounded so familiar now.

During their trek through the airport, the girls had grabbed countless papers advertising the sights of southern California. The colorful pamphlets were strewn across their shared nightstand. Marinette quickly rifled through the pile and found exactly what she was looking for – a tri-fold advertisement for “the best shopping and dining in Los Angeles” at The Grove shopping center.

Marinette held the pamphlet up to Alya, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

“How would you feel about a shopping trip?”

The smile on Alya’s face said it all – she would love it, of course.

* * *

Everything seemed a million times bigger in Los Angeles.

Nothing could be simple here. They couldn’t just build a few shops here and there; no, they had to make it a full-on shopping city. A long street with a fully functioning trolley system cut directly through the center of the outdoor mall, transporting customers from shop to shop. From their vantage point near the gigantic concrete parking garage – which was its own sight for sore eyes – Marinette could see The Grove’s gigantic fountain spraying jets of water at least three metres into the air.

Sure, it was beautiful, but there was too much to process at once. The mere colossal size of it all would make anyone feel tiny and insignificant. How this could be considered just a regular mall to these Americans was incomprehensible. The place looked more like a theme park. Marinette had only seen photos of Disneyland, but this place didn’t look too far off. All that was missing was a castle.

Alya may as well have been a kid in an amusement park, the way she was acting. Her wide eyes raked across the storefront signs ravenously. She bounced on the heels of her feet, ready to take off into retail heaven.

Marinette tried her best to stay calm in the face of pure chaos. The reckless taxi ride here had left her trembling - speeding through tourist-packed traffic with a stranger behind the wheel was enough to give anyone heart palpitations. On top of that, the crowds and lights and sights gave her vivid flashbacks of the night before, bubbling up those unwelcome feelings of being disoriented. And lost. And scared.

She was doing this for Adrien. 

She came all this way to do him a favor and return something of his, to be clear. That’s all. No ulterior motives whatsoever. 

She definitely wasn’t hoping to have another conversation with him, to thank him again for taking care of her, to possibly get to know him a little better while she got the opportunity to do so. Of course not. Hand him the phone, say their goodbyes, go on with their lives. That was the plan.

Now, if she could only find him. She couldn’t use her same plan from this morning; taking the phone out in front of Alya would raise too many questions. It was a different make and model entirely, or else she could have slipped her own phone case on and passed it off as her device. And there was no way in hell she’d willingly separate herself from Alya again. She would just have to find Nino or Adrien the old fashioned way – with her own two eyes and some guesswork.

Now that she thought about it more clearly, she realized she’d trapped herself in a sticky situation: how was she supposed to interact with Adrien or Nino at all if Alya was right there with her? The whole reason the ordeal last night had gone awry the way it did was because Adrien was trying to avoid being seen by anyone he couldn’t trust. If he was out somewhere in this crowd, he had to be disguised or hiding. He might even be surrounded by bodyguards or security after learning his lesson last night. There was no telling how Marinette would even begin to look for him.

Swallowing her anxieties, she followed Alya into the sea of shoppers and kept her eyes peeled, hoping luck would be on her side.

* * *

A promise is a promise, Agreste. Man, who knew that would come back to bite him in the ass so quickly? 

Of course Chloe would choose shopping. Why would he expect anything else from her? He loved the girl, really, but she was awfully predictable. 

Nino had driven them in his car today. “Last time I left you alone, you almost landed a stranger in the hospital,” he’d said out of Chloe’s earshot. “I can’t trust you to take care of yourself for two minutes, I swear.” 

Adrien knew deep down it was because Nino didn’t want to subject him to being alone. 

Or maybe Nino really didn’t trust him after his stupid impulsive decision making last night. It was hard to tell for sure. 

Chloe practically bolted out of the backseat the moment Nino put the car in park. Adrien reached for the door handle trying to keep up, but a tug on his sleeve held him back. 

“That Marinette girl is here,” Nino said suddenly. “Just so you know. She needs to talk to you.” 

“How do you know that?” Adrien asked.

“She told me,” Nino deadpanned, then exited the car without any further explanation, leaving Adrien completely bewildered. What the hell was that supposed to mean? When did he talk to her? 

And - oh god - what did he say to her? 

By the time he caught up to his friends, Chloe was elbow deep into a sunglasses display, trying on each pair and staring at her reflection in the mirror, asking a completely disinterested Nino for his opinion on how they looked. Contrary to popular assumption, Chloe wasn’t the kind of person who would wildly throw her wealth in other people’s faces and come home with dozens of shopping bags full of items she’d only wear once before tossing aside forever. Instead, she carefully calculated each purchase depending on price and the stylistic opinions of those around her. In other words, a shopping trip with Chloe meant becoming her own personal fashion critic for a few hours. Fun. 

Adrien could hardly focus on whether Oakley or Prada was a better choice when he was too busy looking over his shoulder hoping to catch a glance of a familiar face in the crowd. He nearly gave himself whiplash every time a teenage girl with dark hair passed by, and every single time his shoulders fell dejectedly once he realized it wasn’t her. 

“You need to relax,” Chloe said, glancing back at him through the mirror’s reflection as she tried on her third sundress of the day. “I don’t know why you’re so paranoid today, Adrien. You’re not doing anything that’s going to get you in trouble.” 

He hadn’t even been thinking about that. Getting noticed out in public today was the least of his worries. He’d taken all the necessary precautions to blend in to the crowds and look inconspicuous, and besides, going out shopping with his friends wasn’t exactly a scandalous activity that could be turned into a reputation-tarnishing headline. Nothing he would do today would carry as much risk as last night did. 

Unless Chloe saw Marinette out here, recognized her, and realized what was going on. Or worse, if Marinette was trying to meet up so she could file a complaint or get the police involved for what happened last night. 

Okay, maybe now he was a little paranoid. But also very, very curious to see how this day would go. 

“I’m going to go get some air,” Adrien coughed.

Nino and Chloe exchanged a glance, and if Adrien hadn’t known any better he would have thought he even saw Chloe roll her eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” he added. “Promise.” 

As Chloe went back to admiring her own reflection, Nino turned and aimed a curious at Adrien. Adrien returned the look with a shrug and nodded his head towards the doorway. 

The two of them had become masters at silent conversation. They didn’t need words to understand exactly what he was going to do. 

This time he’d make sure not to slam doors in anyone’s faces on the way out.

* * *

It may have been sweltering out in the hazy July heat, and the persistent pestering from sales associates may have gotten a little annoying at times, but at least Marinette could say she was still enjoying herself. If anything, watching her best friend perform mini fashion shows for herself in public was amusing.

While Alya bounced back and forth between the sleek and expensive displays of the Grove’s dozens of high-fashion clothing stores, Marinette busied herself at the smaller carts and stands just outside, preferring to browse items closer to her comfortable price range. Not that Alya could afford any of those hundred dollar dresses, either, but she did like to humor herself by trying them all on and taking selfies in the mirrors. 

Marinette could see Alya now through the wide windows of the shop in front of her - putting on an extra large floppy sun hat and grinning like a maniac at her reflection. 

“So that’s Alya, huh?” a familiar voice whispered far too close to her ear for comfort.

Marinette fumbled and nearly dropped the expensive snow globe she’d been admiring. She stabilized the fragile glass souvenir and whirled around to face the person who had nearly given her a heart attack.

The first thought that popped into Marinette’s mind was that Adrien was not the best at disguises. The second thought, a much less welcome one, was that he even more infuriatingly handsome in broad daylight.

He was wearing a similar ensemble that he’d changed into the night before – all dark-wash, plain clothes with dark sunglasses shielding his unmistakable green eyes. He’d opted for a black cap rather than a hoodie today, a wise choice considering how warm it was outside.

Anyone who bothered to take a second glance would notice it was him immediately. Though, rabid fan girls weren’t currently mobbing him, and, contrary to what she had been expecting, there were no bodyguards or extra security measures taken to keep the crowds away. She supposed his getup did its job well enough.

“I’m sorry, did I scare you?” Adrien peeked over the top of his sunglasses. “It’s me.”

Marinette gulped, still trying to catch her breath. “I would have never guessed,” she tried to make her sarcasm evident, but her words came out in a short staccato rhythm. 

He adjusted his shades and stood a little straighter. “It’s a nice surprise running into you out here.”

“Really?”

“No, not really,” Adrien smiled at her, and her stupid heart actually had the nerve to skip a beat. It was incredibly frustrating how he had that kind of effect on her. “Nino told me you might be here. I’ve actually been keeping my eye out for a while, so I’m glad I finally spotted you. He said you needed to talk to me?”

Something in his voice sounded off, though Marinette couldn’t quite figure out why. 

“Oh, yeah,” Marinette smiled sheepishly, pushing her curiosity to the back of her mind. She reached into her pocket and handed Adrien’s phone over. “I think this is yours.”

Adrien’s sunglasses dipped down low enough for Marinette to see his eyes widen in surprise. 

“It is?” he did an awkward little self-pat down, checking his own empty pockets. “Huh. I think that’s mine, too.”

A sorry laugh escaped her as she gently placed the phone in Adrien’s waiting hands. “Here I was losing my mind all day thinking you were going to report me for theft or something, and it turns out you didn’t even notice it was gone.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” he smiled sincerely. Once again, the sound of her name from his lips sent tingles down to her toes. “I guess I was pretty distracted last night. Sorry about that.”

“It’s totally understandable,” Marinette said, relieved that he was too busy checking on the welfare of his phone to notice the way she was staring at him. He wasn’t the only one who was distracted, evidently.

Hand him the phone, say goodbye, move on. That had been the plan. But Adrien didn’t seem to be in a rush to leave. He could have vanished like he’d done last night, but apparently today was a different story. He looked completely at ease, and Marinette supposed it was justified considering there was no immediate threat of someone noticing him. Shoppers and tourists didn’t bother to give either of them a second glance as they rushed by.

Maybe she could try going the ‘starting another conversation with him’ route after all. 

“Are you feeling better today?” Adrien asked before she had the chance to say anything, catching her by surprise.

She had woken up feeling a bit dizzy, and now that he mentioned it, the noise and bright lights of the shopping center had triggered a persistent dull ache behind her eyes.

“Better than last night,” she didn’t quite lie. “Thank you again for . . . looking after me.” If pseudo-kidnapping her and taking her for a scenic nighttime joyride down Hollywood and Los Angeles’ back streets with a pit stop into the great depths of the Agreste pool house storage closet could be considered looking after her, then sure, he deserved some thanks.

Adrien shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. “Does your friend Alya know what happened?”

Of course, he was still looking out for his reputation. Marinette didn’t expect any less. 

“She’s clueless,” Marinette reassured him. “She doesn’t know you’re here, either.”

“Good,” his shoulders relaxed as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

An awkward beat of silence.

Marinette gulped and took a deep breath. “So . . . do you usually spend your time sneaking around shopping malls incognito or was this just a one time thing?” She prayed her desperation to continue this conversation wasn’t as obvious as it seemed.

“Not really,” Adrien explained. “This is more of Chloe’s scene,” he gestured toward a large upstairs window a few shops down, where Marinette had to squint hard to see what he was referring to - a teenage girl admiring a dress on a mannequin. 

Marinette’s jaw fell slack; she’d seen that girl’s face before. Arguing with an airline steward just a day and a half ago, if she remembered correctly. 

The girl and Adrien looked fairly similar – blonde hair; tall, thin, graceful stature; stunning sharp facial features worthy of a billboard advertisement - though they didn’t look quite similar enough to be related.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Marinette resisted the urge to slap her palm to her forehead the moment the words slipped from her mouth. Her curious side had jumped out and opened her big mouth before the rational and polite sides had a chance to hold it back.

“No,” Adrien said, though he sounded a lot more nonchalant than Marinette had expected. Part of her thought he may get defensive at the accusation, but he was clearly unbothered by her suggestion. “She’s a friend from back home.”

“Like… home, home?” asked Marinette. Adrien nodded, but seeing Chloe on the plane yesterday morning had been confirmation enough.

It clicked in Marinette’s mind then: she’d heard Nino and Adrien mention a girl named Chloe yesterday while the two boys were arguing about what to do with Marinette. Had Chloe been there at the club last night? How many times had the two girls been in close proximity to each other and not had any clue of the potential connection – not just here, but back home in Paris too?

Not that there was much of a connection to be had. Thousands of people lived in Paris, and plenty of them vacationed in America; it just so happened that they had taken the same flight. Nothing extraordinary about that. The only common denominator between them was Adrien, who Marinette had only known for less than a day.

Plus, Chloe was his friend; for her to have come all this way for him, they had to be incredibly close. Marinette was… what was she to him, exactly? Not quite a fan, per se, but definitely not familiar enough to be friend either. Then again, she had spent half of the night in his house. That had to count for something. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Did you really come all this way just to give this back to me?” Adrien broke their silence. Marinette realized that she must have been staring at the other girl for far too long.

“I would want someone to do the same for me,” she said simply, but Adrien had stopped listening.

He stared over Marinette’s shoulder, tilting his head to get a better look. Risking a glance back, Marinette noticed the small crowd of people forming a few feet away, staring in their direction. One man reached into his front pocket and raised his cellphone, ready to snap a photo.

“Let’s go,” Adrien’s voice had taken on that same panicked tone from last night. He tugged on Marinette’s sleeve and would have practically dragged her along with him had she not picked up her pace and stepped quickly behind him.

This boy was obviously experienced at running away from people. With Marinette on his heels, he pushed through the glass doors of The Grove’s three-story-tall bookstore and instantly found a hiding spot in the corner of the media section.

“Sorry,” he whispered – though he was in a store and not a library, so the quiet wasn’t really necessary. “I guess I’m still a little shaken up from yesterday.”

Marinette shrugged. “It’s okay. I understand,” though she really didn’t, at least offering him some empathy might make him feel a little better. “Besides, this place is better than a pool house closet.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Adrien absentmindedly raked his fingertips across the plastic DVD cases on the display next to him as they walked further out of the public’s eye.

Even America’s bookstores were unnecessarily extravagant, Marinette realized. Maybe it was just this chain of stores, but she was awestruck by the amount of things that weren’t print on paper. Most of Paris’s bookshops were about ten times smaller, and just sold actual books, not all of the technology and gadgets they were currently surrounded by.

She supposed that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. There were plenty of distractions to keep someone entertained, if the need arose. Like now, for instance, when she had to avoid making awkward eye contact or forced conversation with the only familiar person within a hundred foot radius to prevent herself from blushing or stammering or making a fool of herself.

Her eyes wandered to the stacks of magazines on a shelf to her left and she had to bite her tongue to resist laughing. A waxy, touched-up version Adrien’s face stared at her from the cover page of one of the latest magazine issues stacked next to the CDs. Meanwhile, Real Adrien put down the vinyl record he’d been fiddling with and looked back in Marinette’s direction, his shoulders slumping.

“I hated that shoot,” Adrien grumbled, though a smile tugged at the corner of his lips suggesting otherwise.

The photo of Adrien was surrounded by various headlines about celebrity drama and the latest diet fads. He was leaned against a fence and smiling in a pose that looked entirely unnatural yet oddly comfortable. They’d gone for a country-chic look, having him dressed in flannel and surrounded by hay bales. “Why do you say that?” Marinette tried to act natural, but she couldn’t quite hide the smirk on her face.

“Do you see that outfit they made me wear? I look ridiculous,” he was still doing his odd pseudo-whisper, which only made his exasperation sound even funnier “You try squeezing into jeans that tight and standing under hot studio lights and see how comfortable it is.”

“One day, if I ever get the opportunity to do that, I’ll let you know how my experience was,” Marinette shot back, trying to think about anything other than Adrien in tight pants. She opened an issue of Vogue and prayed there would be no more familiar faces inside. Thankfully, she was met with glamour shots of female models in fancy runway gowns from Paris Fashion Week, which were much more her speed.

“You wouldn’t mind staying here for a little while, right?” Adrien asked, scoping out the room. “It seems to be pretty quiet up here.”

Marinette thought it was kind of funny that he only asked now, considering they had already been loitering and aimlessly wandering between shelves chatting for at least ten minutes already; nevertheless, she shrugged and sat down on the floor, curling her legs underneath her and grabbing a stack of magazines. “I don’t see why not. Alya could stay distracted by all the clothing stores for at least a few more hours, so I’m sure she won’t mind.” She silently hoped this wouldn’t anger Chloe or Nino either.

Adrien sat cross-legged in front of her, stealing the top issue from the pile and flipping though, obviously ignoring all of the mindless articles in favor of the colorful advertisements.

The teen magazine that was second in the stack didn’t have anything particularly interesting to offer - lots of social media trend updates and child TV stars and bright pink pages (not that Marinette didn’t love pink but there was just so much pink) - but there was one small anecdote that caught her attention.

“Ooh, look at this,” Marinette cooed sarcastically. “One Hundred Facts That You Didn’t Know About Adrien Agreste, right here on page 27.”

“Lots of people like to think they know a lot about me,” Adrien stuck his tongue out. Marinette’s mind wandered to Alya immediately – that girl would proudly blabber on about Adrien for hours, giving all sorts of fun facts about his life, but it was true: she didn’t really know him at all. “I bet you they’re all wrong.”

“Let’s fact check then,” Marinette flipped the page and read aloud. “For starters, according to this article, your favorite color is black, your favorite food is sushi, and your favorite breed of dog is a Beagle. True or false?”

“False, false, and false,” Adrien said proudly. “My favorite color is red, I can’t stand sushi, and I’m more of a cat person. Though if I had to choose a dog, Golden Retrievers would be the obvious best choice.”

Marinette mimed holding a microphone to Adrien’s face. “Well then, Monsieur Agreste, what foods do you like? Clearly you can trust me with the inside scoop. I’ll make an exclusive report and everything.”

“Funny you should ask, miss…” he trailed off.

“Dupain-Cheng,” she answered proudly.

“Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng, you might be interested to know that my favorite meal of the day is dessert. Alya’s mom has a lovely cupcake recipe, by the way. I got to try some of the party leftovers this morning and I must offer my compliments to the chef.”

Marinette lowered her pretend microphone, making note of the hilarity of Adrien The Model eating cupcakes for breakfast. “You should try my maman’s cakes. Not to brag or put down Mme. Césaire, but my family knows a thing or two about desserts.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Marinette smiled. “My parents own a bakery in Paris. Waking up to the smell of fresh bread baking in the morning in the greatest thing in the world.”

“Please do go on.”

“And papa has a chocolate chip cookie recipe to die for. I’ve tried so many times to make them just like he does but I can never quite get them gooey enough. He brings them to events around town and there’s always a line out the bakery door the next morning because everyone wants a taste.”

Adrien’s head tipped back and gently bumped the shelf behind him, his eyes closed in pure bliss.

“Now I really want cookies now,” he muttered, then looked back up at Marinette. “Tell me more.”

“About what?” Marinette asked. “I’m sure you don’t want to just keep talking about bread.”

“About home,” he said unexpectedly. He meant her home, Paris, of course. Marinette would be the last person he’d ask questions to about California. “Anything about it. Everything. What do you love best about it?”

“Why does what I love matter?” she was genuinely curious.

“I value your opinion,” he said without a hint of sarcasm. “Plus, Chloe only ever wants to talk about how there aren’t nearly enough shoe stores in Paris to satisfy her, and that gets old really quickly.”

Marinette knew she shouldn’t laugh, but the comment took her by surprise. The lighthearted jab only helped to make Adrien seem more...normal, though that didn’t seem like a word that should even be associated with someone like him. He was just like any other kid with wistful dreams - though his current life wasn’t anything to turn your nose up at, either. 

After a heavy pause, she sighed. “I love...how personal things are there. And familiar. How I can walk anywhere and find anything I need just by asking anyone on the street.” She was whispering now, too, though she didn’t quite know why. “I’ve come to appreciate that so much after being here and seeing how different it is. How big and far away everything is. And how much the people stare at me when it’s obvious I don’t fit in with all of this.” 

“People aren’t the friendliest here,” Adrien agreed. “And they’re not too keen on talking to strangers.” 

“I feel like, in places like this, I have to stare at my feet when I walk. Like I’m not allowed to look at anyone for too long without them wondering what I want from them.”

Adrien shrugged sadly, nudging the edge of a magazine with the tip of his shoe. “People are scared of new competition cropping up. It’s a tough race to the top when everyone can run just as fast as you can.” 

“And everything moves so fast here!” Marinette sighed. Despite how deeply metaphorical their chat had become, she still clung to every word. “Everybody is trying to get to the next big thing. At home, things are slow. I can take my time and enjoy life without worrying what the person next to me is doing differently. There’s less pressure.”

At that, Adrien blinked rapidly. “Pressure? For you?”

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest indignantly. “What, you think that regular old me can’t relate to how tough things are here?” 

“No, it’s just that…” Adrien’s eyes locked on hers, and something swelled in her stomach strongly enough to make her arms fall slack. “Someone with as much talent as you should never feel pressured to do better.”

Trying to compose herself, she gulped and looked away, focusing far too hard on anything but the boy in front of her. “How can you say something like that so casually? You barely know who I am.” 

“I’m getting to know you, though. Just in the last five minutes I’ve learned that you’ve got a great sense of humor and your family has a pretty great chocolate chip cookie recipe, which already makes you more dimensional than half of the people I’ve known for years. A lot of people in this city aren’t genuine. It’s refreshing to get to know someone who cares about something other than money or popularity. Plus, it’s nice to have someone to talk to who doesn’t want to ask what my next project is or when my dad’s new line is coming out.”

“Right, it’s much nicer to talk to someone who wants to ask about your favorite colors and desserts,” Marinette teased. “That’s a much more captivating conversation, right?” 

“See, I told you - great sense of humor.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that - simplicity and sarcasm was really all it took to get him out of his shell. And in the process, she had opened herself up to him too. Much more than she would have expected herself to, anyway.

Their banter faded into comfortable silence. 

“I wasn’t kidding, by the way,” Adrien said quietly. “Your designs. Those sketches were better than half the stuff I see from professionals. You’ve got a real talent, Marinette. I’m sure if I slipped one of your sketchbook pages onto my dad’s desk he’d take a good look at it and really like it.”

He was just being nice. At least that’s what she tried to convince herself. Internally, she was repeatedly smacking her own forehead and trying to will away her intrusive thoughts. Maybe if she just ignored them, they’d go away. If only it was that easy to stop thinking about Adrien. In reality, he’d occupied most of her thoughts since last night. Most of those thoughts had been worries, but they were thoughts all the same.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had become a bit awestruck – both by him and by the simple fact that his life was so glamorous and perfect and she was practically nobody compared him. The intimidation alone was enough to make her question every word and action in his presence. Marinette was never one to have low self-esteem, nor would she start to now, but it was hard not to make comparisons.

“You’re just saying that,” Marinette’s throat was drier than a desert.

Adrien frowned at her. “Why do you think that? Those sketches I saw really were great. Are you upset that I looked? I know it was an accident, but I’m sorry if I invaded your personal space or anything.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said. “It’s just… your dad is one of the most famous designers in the world. He’s still a huge name even back home. I just think it would take a lot to impress him.”

Adrien nodded and hummed low under his breath. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

His honesty raised another green flag in Marinette’s mind. She was slowly learning that Adrien was nothing like his reputation would suggest. He defied every single one of Marinette’s expectations. He could have been dismissive or stuck up or full of himself, as most celebrities were known - or at least thought - to be, but in the few interactions she’d had with him, he’d proved himself to be quite the opposite. That fact surprised, confused, and delighted her all at once. As odd as it was to say, he fascinated her.

Normally she would never be so quickly afflicted by anything or anyone. She dismissed it as a side effect of the head trauma. At least she could mostly blame Adrien for that. She also tried her best to force away the thought that he was only being nice because he had hurt her, though she didn’t doubt that that could be the real reason.

Regardless, she had spent far too long sitting on the floor of a bookstore and racing after her uncontrollable, wistful mind. She could have spent all day right here, letting her mouth run until they ran out of things to say to one another, but every second she spent chatting was distracting her from the real reason why she had come to California in the first place.

“I should get back to Alya,” Marinette tried to suppress a frown. “I can’t keep leaving her alone, she’s probably looking for me.” 

Marinette rose to her feet, only to be held in place by a gentle tug on her sleeve. “Wait,” Adrien plead. His free hand fumbled in his pocket until it found a black ink marker, which he uncapped with his teeth. “Never thought I’d use this for anything other than autographs, but I’m glad I kept it on me.” 

Adrien’s hand on her sleeve traveled down past her wrist, turning upward to face her palm to the ceiling. 

“You said something about not getting service on your phone here, right? But your hotel landline should still work, so maybe we can keep in touch…” 

Every nerve up and down her arm trembled as he began jotting down a seven digit number in blocky, crooked handwriting. 

He’s just a person, Marinette had to remind herself, her thoughts running wild as ever. Just a person. A person who just so happened to be intimidatingly attractive, not to mention swimming in cash and surrounded by a horde of admirers. And to top it all off, he had to be kind and understanding and just awkward enough to be charming. Damn him.

Marinette had promised herself she wouldn’t follow Alya’s path. She wasn’t going to become some crazed fangirl and start crushing on a complete stranger based completely on what could be a fake, one-dimensional personality and a life that was entirely staged. She had hoped to never become so shallow that she would focus on looks and prestige alone.

Crushing on someone she got to know a little better? Someone who happened to be incredibly thoughtful and caring despite barely knowing her? Someone like Adrien, who had shown her a wonderful time, not because of peer pressure or obligation, but purely out of his own goodness? Maybe that was a little more plausible.

That didn’t mean she wanted it to happen, though.

In less than two weeks, she and Alya would be boarding a one-way flight back to reality. This was no time to start catching feelings. 

“There,” he lowered Marinette’s freshly-inked hand, which she tried her best not to smudge. “Now you can call just in case you change your mind on showing my dad your designs,” he gave her a knowing smile. 

Her mind fought itself on whether it wanted to stare up at Adrien’s face or down at the bold black numbers in her palm. Adrien, on the other hand, seemed none-too-intimidated by keeping direct eye contact, as if he were completely oblivious to how fast it was making her heart beat.

Neither of them noticed the whispers of noticing bystanders. The snap of a nearby camera. 

“I’ll see you around?” Adrien asked as Marinette took slow, cautious steps backward. 

“Maybe,” she replied, not quite knowing the true answer herself. 

She turned to face the front doors of the store, entirely too aware of Adrien’s eyes watching as she walked out of the glass doors and back to reality, committing the day’s events and those seven black digits to the depths of her memory.


End file.
